Promises of a New Land
by MattsUK
Summary: Following the events of Honest Hearts and Lonesome Road, a new found trio journeys towards the promises of a new land. A land untouched by the war and the chaos of the Wastes. However, what they find is not what they expect. (Strong Language) (Cover Image: /art/Joshua-Graham-Sketch-352402986 [All credit to artist])
1. Chapter 1 - Prologue

**Chapter 1: Promises of a New Land/Prologue**

After the encompassing events that followed the arrival (and departure) of Courier Six in Zion, The Burned Man decided that it was time to leave Zion behind and search for a new life. The tribes of Zion were strong now and would appoint a worthy leader in his absence.

During the Courier's short stay in Zion, he spoke to Graham about an 'unspoken land'. This land was, supposedly, untouched by the war and the people of the Wasteland, including Caesar and The NCR. The Courier had told Graham that he was headed to this 'unspoken land' after he resolved the chaos that ensued in the canyons of Zion.

The Courier had offered to take Graham with him as he traveled to this new world and, upon hearing of the death of Caesar himself, he decided that it would be a good choice to remake himself as a new person. This 'unspoken land' brought many promises with its name, and Graham would claim those promises offered to him.

Ensuing the fall of the white legs and the safety of Zion, the Courier departed with Joshua Graham for the new land they had once spoken of.

Promises of the new land came from the west, through NCR territory. These promises had not revealed their source, but Graham and the Courier would travel west, in search for the source of the rumors or the new land itself.

Treading on the Bear's territory was a risk that Graham was willing to take. This new land would be worth the sum of his pain that he would evoke traversing the Bear's land.

The pair walked west for months. They encountered more problems than The Bear. The creatures of the waste were harsh and unforgiving. The Divide was relentless, a hell on earth. In The Divide, they met a man named Ulysses. Although Ulysses was a broken man, this man was wise, if you had a question, there was always an answer from Ulysses.

His life in shambles, Ulysses was offered a spot in the party, which he gladly accepted.

The new found trio journeyed further west to find the land they had promised themselves.


	2. Chapter 2 - Broken Promises

**Courier Six – Six Apparel: Elite Riot Gear Weaponry: Chance's Knife, Mysterious Magnum, Survivalist's Rifle, Frag Grenades  
**

**Joshua Graham – Joshua/Josh Apparel: Joshua Graham's Armour + Headwrap Weaponry: A Light In Shining Darkness, Frag Grenades  
**

**Ulysses – Ulysses Apparel: Ulysses' Duster, Ulysses' Mask Weaponry: Old Glory, Anti-Material Rifle, 12.7mm SMG, Frag Grenades + Flash Bangs**

* * *

**Update: Made the conversation between the Wastelanders and Ozpin slightly longer since it felt quite abrupt and rushed. Also made some grammatical changes here and there.**

* * *

**Chapter 2: Broken Promises**

The change in scenery was almost immediate. The Wastelanders had been treading through the crumbled ruins of their apocalyptic world when they saw a flash of light. Temporarily blinded and unable to see what was happening around them, the trio drew their weapons in preparation of the upcoming fight.

As their vision slowly returned, they were bewildered to find a lush forest of Avocado leaves. They holstered their weapons and took in their surroundings. Leaves fell from the trees. Ulysses snatched one of the falling green leaves. He smoothed his finger over the surface of the leaf.

"Soft to the touch," he proclaimed. Joshua ran his blackened fingers along the bark of the nearest tree and smiled an unseen smile, concealed under bandages.

The Courier knelt down and laid his palm on the floor, touching and grasping the soft dirt in his fingers. He was lost for words.

"God has led us to this world," started Joshua, "the land he promised us, come early." He smirked again.

"Indeed," said Six, "your God is spoiling us."

"Do not make assumptions so quickly," said Ulysses, "history may not have taken its toll yet."

"Lighten up, Ulysses!" said Six, "this is a new chance! A new start! For us!"

"Expect the unexpected," said Ulysses, "The Divide has taught us that history always has its place."

"Ulysses speaks the truth," said Joshua, "we do not know what this land harbours, be it good or bad, human or animal, we must remain alert."

"Right," agreed Six.

The Wastelanders grew tired from their long journey, yet they continued walking through the majestic forest, weapons drawn. They only walked undisturbed through the darkened forest. The group came to a small clearing in the large forest. In the clearing, a singular beam of light penetrated the thick canopy of leaves above them. They decided to sit down and rest for some minutes before heading back out into the forest. A rustle in the bushes caught the trio's attention. They drew their weapons in spite of the disturbance. Red eyes glowed like fire behind the darkness of the treeline. A large creature that looked like that of a Yao Guai, just bigger, emerged from the darkness. The Yao Guai-like creature swiped at Six who narrowly evaded the large claws of the creature. The trio filled the creature with a hail bullets and it fell quickly and heavily. The creature let out one last dying breath as it collapsed, lifeless.

Joshua crouched down next to the one living creature, now a simple corpse.

"Much like a Yao Guai, yet its eyes burn like fire, now an extinguished flame." He stated

The Courier examined the large spinal-like bones protruding from the back of the creature. "Bones covering it's back, like an exoskeleton of sorts."

"I have never seen a creature like this before, like a Deathclaw, yet slower and weaker" replied Joshua

"We must continue," said Ulysses, "could be civilisation, maybe like the old world, who knows?"

The group continued through the forest.

* * *

**Meanwhile: Beacon Academy Initiation Students: Yang &amp; Blake**

"Blake, did you hear that?!" Yang jumped at the reverberating

"Someone could be in trouble," responded Blake

"Let's go then!" exclaimed Yang as she ran off toward the scene, dragging Blake behind her.

The duo wandered toward the source of the now silent gunfire. Trudging through the bushes and manoeuvring past the branches and trees, they came upon a small clearing in the forest, where the leaves in the canopy parted, revealing a crack of daylight. They had walked for over ten minutes

"Sheesh, looks like we missed the party," Yang said, slightly disheartened seeing as she had missed the opportunity to punch something. Blake knelt down by the dead Ursa and examined the wounds in its torso.

"I've never seen these kinds of bullet wounds before…" said Blake. Blake caught sight of a glinting scrap of metal sitting next to her, gleaming in the sunlight provided by the small crack in the leaves. She picked up the empty bullet casing on the floor.

"It's… strange." She said, examining the empty bullet casing

"What do you mean?" asked Yang, hands on hips.

"I've never seen this kind of bullet before," replied Blake, "It doesn't seem to use dust."

Yang gasped, "We should go find Ruby! I bet she'd love to find out what fired this! She's always so into weapons!" The blonde brawler hopped around giddily.

Blake rolled her eyes, shook her head and pocketed the empty bullet casing before the couple continued on into the forest with their main objective.

* * *

**Wastelanders:**

The Wastelanders had left the scene of their encounter and had continued venturing through the forest until they came across a large clearing with what appeared to be a Temple of sorts in the center.

"A temple?" asked Joshua

"Was," replied Ulysses, "Now a thing of the past."

The Wastelanders walked down into the center of the clearing and observed the Temple.

"Pre-war," said Ulysses, "Before the Old World too."

Six observed the stone podiums. Each of the podiums, save 2, harboured chess pieces.

"Chess pieces?" asked Six. He let out a small chuckle and said, "Old World entertainment."

"We are now aware that this world has been blessed with human life," Said Joshua, "Hopefully it still is."

"If there are chess pieces on these podiums, civilisation must be fairly well developed." Stated Six as he picked up one of the chess pieces and began examining it. "They're new too. They must've been placed here pretty recently."

Six placed the chess piece back on its podium and the group reformed and headed toward the nearby valley. Upon entering the clearing that harboured the valley, they spotted a large building, one that reached higher than any building in the Wastes.

"Civilisation?" asked Joshua

"Let's hope," replied Six, "I'm getting hungry."

* * *

**20 minutes prior: Prof. Ozpin and Glynda Goodwitch**

"Professor Ozpin," started Goodwitch, "Our cameras have found some 'extras'. I ran a face recognition scan on them and it appears that they are not students of Beacon, sir, nor can I find them on any accessible databases. What should we do?"

Ozpin remained silent as he observed the newcomers through the camera feed.

"Professor Ozpin?" said Goodwitch, attempting to make herself noticed.

* * *

**Wastelanders:**

The Wastelanders advanced towards the colossal building. The building was built atop a large cliff face. The Wastelanders scoured the area around the cliff for a way to easily scale the cliff, like a trail or a path that led straight up to the top of the cliff. Having no such luck, the trio's only option was to climb the cliff. The climb was quick and surprisingly quick for the Wastelanders. As the Wastelanders neared the top, Ulysses glanced back at the valley they were previously trekking through. The valley remained quiet.

The climb took no more than ten minutes and the Wastelanders were greeted by a middle-aged man wearing a green coat, carrying a coffee mug and a cane in separate hands.

"I trust the climb was hard, no?" asked Ozpin as he saw Six's head pop up from the edge of the cliff.

Six almost lost his grip as he heard the sudden voice. He didn't expect anyone to be waiting for them, nor did he expect to be greeted in such a friendly manor. Six hoisted himself over the edge of the cliff and stood to face the man.

"You mock me?" asked six, regaining his breath. Ozpin stood silent and Six turned to help his comrades over the edge of the cliff.

"Who are you?" demanded Six

"My name is Professor Ozpin; I am the headmaster at Beacon Academy

"An academy?" asked Six, "Haven't seen a running school yet."

"None of us have, Six." Said Joshua

"Well, gentlemen, it looks to me like you have had a rough day. Maybe I can be of assistance and offer temporary shelter for the night." Said Ozpin

Six laughed at his proposal.

"Fuck off, free accommodation is a joke." asked Joshua

"For one night," replied Ozpin, "I'm just looking to help a friend in need."

"Yeah, sorry man but I ain't getting robbed again." Six drew the Mysterious Magnum and held it level with the green man's face. Before he could contemplate pulling the trigger, a bandaged hand wrapped around the barrel and lowered the gun. Six's head slowly turned to his left.

"He's gonna rob us!" Six whispered, but… didn't really whisper. Joshua Graham turned to address Ozpin.

"Ozpin… we do not strongly believe that you are willing to offer free accommodation." Joshua said, hand still wrapped around Six's sidearm.

The corners of Ozpin's lips curled lightly upwards, "Nor do I expect you to… but you seem to be quite worse for wear… and I am strongly inclined to believe that you don't have a place to go."

Joshua turned to address Six, "What do you say, Courier? We have all been in similar situations before, I believe." It was a common thing in the Wasteland, friendly-looking people offering a place to stay for the night and then trying to stab you in your sleep.

The Courier turned and nodded to the green man, albeit hesitantly.

The Wastelanders were guided to their temporary housing by Ozpin. They were astounded by the sheer size and extreme grandiose of the building.

"…This is a school?" Six questioned

"Correct," replied Ozpin casually

"Why is it so… big?" Six continued

"This is an academy, here we train students to become hunters and huntresses," Ozpin explained

Six cut him off, "All of this to train some kids to hunt animals?"

Ozpin glared at him, "You did not allow me to finish. Hunters and huntresses are trained to combat the creatures of Grimm."

"Grimm?" Joshua dug.

"Creatures of the darkness," explained Ozpin. They turned a corner into the cafeteria. "You look thirsty," Ozpin said as he gestured toward the cafeteria. The Wastelanders entered, got their drinks, and returned to Ozpin. Upon returning to the headmaster, Six began rummaging around in his pockets.

"How much?" he asked

"All food and drink is provided to students and staff for free. Since this is your first time here and you clearly have no idea where you are, I will offer you a meal and drink for free." Ozpin explained. The Wastelanders looked at each other, smiling; although neither of them could see each other smile under their clothing and armour. Ulysses wasn't actually smiling, but Six would often like to think that he did every now and then.

"Lunch is served in an hour," said Ozpin, "but for now, let me show you to your residence for the night." Ozpin guided them to their dorm room. He gave Six a scroll and explained to him that it was used for opening the door. He also explained the other functions of the scrolls, such as communication.

"One more thing, gentlemen," Ozpin started, "If you wish to find more… _permanent _forms of accommodation then I must ask you to prove yourselves to me; report to the cliffs where we spoke earlier for initiation tomorrow morning at 10:00 am."

Ozpin left the three Wastelanders to themselves.

"Holy crap! This is amazing!" exclaimed Six as he bounced on one of the three beds in the room

"Initiation?" asked Ulysses, sitting on one of the beds

"I can only assume there will be combat involved. He talked about these 'Creatures of Grimm'. It must involve them." Said Joshua

"But what the hell is a 'Grimm'?" demanded Six

"Might be the bear," Ulysses said, "back in the forest."

"It could be," agreed Joshua

"Listen, guys," started Six, "I'm not really bothered that much about this 'initiation' thing right now, so how about we get some food and then we can do some research on these 'Grimm' guys. I'm sure there's a library somewhere."

Nobody disagreed with Six's plan of action at the moment. The Wastelanders went to the cafeteria and scoffed down some food. They had never eaten anything that tasted so good in their lives. Salisbury Steak had nothing on this food.

After filling their bellies with delicious nourishment, they decided to head back to their dorm rooms for a couple hours to shower and refresh themselves.

After cleaning up, the trio searched for the school's library. They found it easily enough and began their research.

Six researched the Grimm to find their weaknesses and see what types of Grimm there were. He looked for anything that could potentially help them survive.

Joshua researched culture and geology. He found that the world of Remnant housed 4 kingdoms: Mistral, Atlas, Vaccuo and Vale. He also was able to find information on Combat Schools.

Ulysses read up on the History of Remnant. He discovered that Remnant was completely different from the nuclear wastes. The world of Remnant first harboured the Creatures of Grimm, man was then born, but man was born into an unforgiving world. The Grimm almost wiped out human existence on Remnant before the discovery of Dust. With the discovery of Dust, man grew strong in the world of Remnant. Ulysses further researched Dust as the hours grew late.

Ulysses' research went mostly undisturbed, aside from one young girl who decided to disturb him. Ulysses wasn't too happy about this, but he hid his annoyance expertly.

* * *

**Earlier  
**"Umm… excuse me?" came a feminine voice from behind him. Ulysses closed his book and placed it on the table he was sitting at. He turned to see a young girl, no older than 15, staring down at him. She had red hair and wore a black dress-like outfit with a red cape. She jumped back a little when he turned to face her

"Umm… sorry," she said slightly shyly, "I-I-haven't seen you here before, are you new?"

"New… Yes. Got here today. From a land of horrors, with two others." He replied

"What do you mean by 'a land of horrors'?" she asked

"I will tell you more another time. Might not be around much longer." He said.

Without wanting any more strange non-understandable answers, the girl rushed off to join a small group of 3 more girls.

Ulysses picked up the book he was previously reading from and continued reading.


	3. Chapter 3 - First Night

**FINALLY, IT'S HERE!**

* * *

**Chapter 3: First Night**

"Oh, there you are Ruby!" exclaimed Yang as Ruby re-joined her friends, "Where were you?"

"Oh, I was talking to one of the new students!" replied Ruby

"There are new students?" asked Yang, "I didn't think Ozpin let anyone in after the year started,"

"Well…" started Ruby, "He did look a little old to be a student…"

"Well, what was he like?" questioned Weiss, "We have to know if he's a threat or not!"

"Weiss…" began Blake

"What?" asked Weiss, "I'm just being cautious"

"He was reading a book," said Ruby, "So he must like reading, or he was just studying if he's a student"

Ruby directed her team to where Ulysses sat.

"And he spoke funny too," Ruby added, "Maybe you guys wanna talk to him?"

"Sounds good!" Yang smiled as she dragged the group to confront Ulysses.

Upon seeing the large scuffle of girls head his way, Ulysses marked his page, closed his book and prepared for an onslaught of questions.

"Hey there!" exclaimed the blonde, dragging 3 other girls by their collars. When the blonde got close enough to talk without shouting, she released her companions who all seemed to stand to attention, not wanting to make bad first impressions. Ulysses and his new found company stood (Ulysses sat) in awkward silence. Ulysses waited for the questions to start.

"So…" started the blonde, "What's your name?"

"Ulysses," he replied

"That's a cool name!" said the one in red

"Not my given name, close enough. Took it from history, found it in a book. It's an Old World name." he explained

"Old world?" asked a black-haired girl

"The Old World. Before the war." He replied

"The war?" questioned Yang

"You wouldn't know" said Ulysses

"Well… I'm Yang!" exclaimed the blonde who was immediately pulled to the side by the girl in white when she revealed her name

"What are you doing?" she hissed, "Have you seen how he's dressed!?"

"So what, Weiss?" replied Yang

"He's clearly a degenerate, he has to be homeless! His clothes are so primitive!" complained Weiss

"What's the problem with that?" asked Yang. The other two girls had now turned around to try and solve the dispute, whilst Ulysses silently slipped away to join his own companions. He found Six and Graham conversing about something called 'aura'.

"Aura?" Ulysses questioned, halting the conversation

"Ah, there you are!" Six cried, "We've been looking everywhere for you!"

"By everywhere, he means he searched the first two aisles before giving up and fiddling with his gun." Explained Joshua

"Hey! That's not true!" Six retorted, "I got a book!" he waved a blue covered book in the air

"You didn't read it." Joshua blurted

"Pfft, of course I read it!" argued Six

"It does not matter." Ulysses interrupted, "What is it about?"

"It's about this stuff called 'aura'." Six answered

"I thought you were researching Grimm?" said Ulysses

"Yeah, I was but then I stumbled over this." He waved the book in the air once more, "Looked interesting."

"A book with a plain blue cover looked interesting?" Joshua questioned The Courier's interests

"I meant the title." Said Six, "'Aura for dummies'"

"Now I do truly question your interests…" Joshua smirked

"Whatever," Six said, handing the book over to Ulysses, "Here, read it."

Ulysses took the book from The Courier and threw a question his way, "What did you find, Courier?"

Six started to explain his findings, "As you may know, I have been researching the creatures of Grimm. These creatures are basically add-ons to the local wildlife around here. The books said they were around as long as, if not longer, than humans. The books also said that The Grimm are attracted to negative emotion, so that means we're gonna have a bad time here. Older Grimm creatures learn from their past experiences, the older the Grimm, the harder it is to kill. So, summarising all that up, don't touch the old ones, don't be negative, although we are already full of that, and… oh yeah, they exclusively attack humans, so that means no 'Animal Friend' business. Anyways, Joshua?"

Joshua began to explain his findings, "I mainly researched Geology and a little on Culture. There are four different kingdoms in Remnant, Mistral, Atlas, Vaccuo and Vale. We are in Vale. I was also able to find out about a few of the different combat schools in Remnant. We are in Beacon; people say it's where the best of the best go. In the way of culture, not much to be found there, seems to be barely any religious beliefs at all. Ulysses?"

Ulysses began to explain his findings, "Researched History…"

"Of course you did." Six deadpanned

"The Grimm came first, man came next. Grimm set their sights on man, almost wiped man out, before the discovery of Dust… A natural resource that can be used as fuel, in munitions and can even be fused with the soul. Everything runs on dust, the cars, the planes, the military, all of it… That is all."

"Alright," Six started, "We need to find out more about dust and aura. Dust sounds important and we know nothing about aura yet."

"I will research aura." Stated Joshua

"Me too. Ulysses, you can research dust since you seem to know more about it than we do." Six said. Ulysses nodded in response as the group gathered books on their selected subject and gathered at a table to begin researching.

The trio researched for nearly an hour, taking notes and remembering important facts and factors undisturbed. The time ticked around to 8:37pm and the group exchanged their notes and findings before deciding that they should get some sleep.

The night went by quickly and morning soon dawned, awaking the trio from their slumber. Six yawned as he sat up in his bed, checking his armor and weapons over. He looked over to the two empty beds beside him and then took a look at the digital clock on his bedside table.

7:48am

"Damn, it's late…" Six groaned as he hopped out of bed and Joshua emerged from the bathroom door.

"Finally awake." Joshua said as he sat down on his bed and began to check his equipment over, ensuring A Light In Shining Darkness was fully loaded and in good condition, along with his armor.

"Where's Ulysses?" asked Six heading into the bathroom

"I am unsure; he was not here when I woke up." Joshua replied

"Ah well, he can take care of himself." Six said from behind the bathroom door

_**Meanwhile**_

Ulysses sat in the near empty dining hall of Beacon Academy, devouring the food in front of him. Never before had he tasted food so… good. It actually had _taste! _Compared to Salisbury Steak and other food brands, this food was like a gift from God himself.

Ulysses finished his meal in just under three minutes and decided to head back to the trio's dorm room to check his equipment

When he arrived back, he was greeted by Six.

"There you are!" Six exclaimed, jumping up from his bed, "Where were you!?"

"Eating." Ulysses simply responded

"Eating? Oh, crap! We gotta eat! Graham! Where are you?"

"On the bed next to you." Joshua said from the bed next to Six as he checked over his ammunition reserves

"We need to eat! Let's go!" Six dashed out of the door and Joshua Graham followed him out the door, walking instead of running.

Ulysses sat down on his bed and put his Anti-Material Rifle down on the bed, checking the ammunition and ensuring that the gun was in working order. He did the same for his 12.7mm submachine gun as well as checking the condition of Old Glory and counting his frags and flash grenades. Everything seemed to be in working order.

Once he had finished his weapon check, Six returned to the dorm and slumped down on his bed.

"The food is gooooooood…" he mumbled to himself

"Stay awake. Initiation starts in three hours." Said Ulysses

"I'm tired…" groaned Six

"No, you're not." Said Joshua, arriving back at the dorm.

"Do we have enough ammunition?" asked Ulysses, looking over to Joshua

"More than enough." Replied Six, "I've got an entire bag of ammo for each of our weapons."

"What a coincidence…" mumbled Joshua

Six hopped up from his bed and hoisted a large duffle bag out from underneath his bed. After around twenty seconds, Six was finally able to get the bag onto his bed.

"Since when did you have this with you?" asked Ulysses. Six just tapped his Pip-Boy and unzipped the bag, multiple loaded magazines falling out for almost every type of gun.

"This thing is useful in so many ways," Six said, referring to his Pip-Boy, "We've got all the ammo we need."

"This is good." Stated Joshua as he rummaged through the contents of the duffle bag, "Ammo to more guns than I know of."

"Exactly! If we ever need more ammo for our weaponry, we can recycle these ones. Besides, I'm sure we'll find quite the amount in the way of weapons. I spotted some little girls walking around with some real high tech compact weaponry. At the moment, I'm leaning towards a shoulder-mounted machine gun," he smiled, "Improved version, that is."

"We can focus on weapons _after_ the initiation." Said Joshua, "Let's just focus on staying alive for now."

"We are gonna _kill _this initiation!" a massive grin grew on Six's face, "Oh, that reminds me, I think I put a Plasma Rifle in here somewhere…" Six literally dived into the duffle bag in search for one of his favourite weapons.

"Hey, look, it's Red Glare!"

* * *

**Whew! Finally back in business! I truly do apologise for the delays, y'know, writers block, losing the plans, that kind of stuff. But who cares? We're up and running!**

**Updates have been removed**


	4. Chapter 4 - Initiation

**Armistice Day: UK**

At 11am on each Remembrance Sunday a two minute silence is observed at war memorials and other public spaces across the UK. The silence is meant as a tribute to those who lost their lives fighting for their country - but what is the significance of that date and time?

On the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month in 1918 the guns of Europe fell silent. After four years of bitter fighting, The Great War was finally over. The Armistice was signed at 5am in a railway carriage in the Forest of Compiegne, France on November 11, 1918. Six hours later, at 11am, the war ended.

The first Remembrance Day was conducted in 1919 throughout Britain and the Commonwealth. Originally called Armistice Day, it commemorated the end of hostilities the previous year. It came to symbolise the end of the war and provide an opportunity to remember those who had died.

In a letter published in the London Evening News on 8 May 1919, an Australian journalist, Edward George Honey, had proposed a respectful silence to remember those who had given their lives in the First World War. This was brought to the attention of King George V and on 7 November 1919, the King issued a proclamation which called for a two minute silence:

"All locomotion should cease, so that, in perfect stillness, the thoughts of everyone may be concentrated on reverent remembrance of the glorious dead."

After the end of the Second World War in 1945 Armistice Day became Remembrance Day to include all those who had fallen in the two World Wars and other conflicts.

Since 1919, on the second Sunday of November, otherwise known as Remembrance Sunday, a two minute silence has been observed at 11am at war memorials, cenotaphs, religious services and shopping centres throughout the country.

The Royal Family, along with leading politicians and religious leaders gather at The Cenotaph in Whitehall, London for a service and all branches of the civilian and military services are represented in ceremonies throughout Britain and the Commonwealth.

**I hope we all participated in two minutes of silence to remember those who had risked their lives for their country during World War 1**

* * *

**Chapter 4: Initiation**

The Wastelanders stood at the edge of Beacon Cliff admiring the view of the lush forest and valley beneath them. It was completely different to the dry, baron deserts of the Mojave Wasteland and definitely thousands of times better than what was now called 'The Divide'. Even Zion couldn't best what this place had to offer and it was one of the most, if not _the _most living place on Earth, covered with flowing water and plant life.

Of course, Six had heard of the humbled 'Oasis' in the remainders of DC, a place unusually covered in lush greenery that had once been a mine, but just became another part of the nuclear wasteland after the Great War.

Courier Six stood on the cliff with a Plasma Rifle holstered on his back, the Mysterious Magnum holstered on his waist with a few frag grenades and Chance's Knife in its sheathe on his chestplate, dressed in his usual Elite Riot Gear he had acquired in The Divide.

Joshua Graham stood beside Six in his usual apparel with Six's Survivalist Rifle holstered on his back and A Light In Shining Darkness holstered on his waist along with a few frag grenades.

Ulysses stood on the other side of Six with his usual duster and mask, Red Glare holstered on his back beside Old Glory and his Anti-Material Rifle, the high-powered rifle almost extending its barrel to the floor as it hung on Ulysses' back.

Professor Ozpin stood in front of them, accompanied by a woman who had introduced herself as Glynda Goodwitch.

Welcome, gentlemen, to your initiation," Ozpin spoke, "Your objective is simple, make your way to the northern end of the forest and retrieve a relic from the temple there. Return here with your relic to complete your initiation. We will be airdropping you in the forest seeing as you seem… unprepared for our usual delivery routine."

"Well," Six started, "No complaints here." The other Wastelanders nodded in agreement.

A pilot gave the Wastelanders a quick ride down to the base of the cliff in a transport called a 'Bullhead'. The Bullhead had a striking resemblance to a Vertibird, an Enclave air transport. The only large difference was that Vertibirds used rotor blades to sustain them in the air whilst Bullheads used a similar hovering system that was used in Mister Gutsy's to keep them afloat.

The Wastelanders weren't all too familiar with the Enclave, so they had no troubles boarding the Bullhead.

The ride lasted no more than three minutes and the pilot had graced them with his luck as they hopped off, "Good Luck!"

The trio found themselves in a small clearing when they had jumped off. Their weapons were drawn, ready to fire at anything that moved.

The Emerald Forest was the same luscious olive-green that it had been when the foreigners had arrived. The forest's thick canopy threw the forest floor into a thick darkness at places where not even a single crack of light broke through the canopy. Most of the forest was still dark, but not pitch black due to openings in the canopy.

The group encountered a few dozen Grimm, most were Beowolves with the exception of a couple Ursai, but all were dropped by the Survivalist's Rifle in Joshua Graham's hands, the few who got too close were instantly liquefied by the green gaze of Six's Plasma Rifle whilst Ulysses held Red Glare at the ready.

Six, Graham and Ulysses made it to the northern end of the forest in a matter of minutes, each one accustomed to traveling fast, resulting in a much shorter travel time. They came upon a clearing inhabited by what seemed to be the remains of an ancient temple.

The group approached the temple wearily, guns raised and eyes on alert, scanning every single leaf, stone or piece of dirt for traps, suspicious activity or movement of any kind. Their time in the wastes had taught them that just about anything could lurk around the corner, whether it be a Legion child looking to blow you to bits or a Deathclaw waiting to tear you open and feed your guts to its young.

As they neared the temple, Six started to remember the temple.

"Hey, this is the same temple we passed yesterday, there's even a chess piece here!" He exclaimed

"Think it's the relic?" asked Joshua

"Gotta be," Six said, picking up the chess piece that sat atop a stone podium, much like the others were the previous day, "It's the only thing here."

"We should get back then." Ulysses suggested, they all agreed.

* * *

**Meanwhile: Beacon Academy Auditorium:**

"Yang, why do you think we're all in here?" Ruby asked her sister as more students filed into the auditorium, followed by a few teachers.

"I dunno sis." Was Yang's reply

"Whatever it is, I hope it's worthwhile, we're missing valuable learning time because of this!" Weiss moaned as she sat down next to her partner, followed by Blake who took a seat next to her partner.

The team waited for a couple more minutes as more students filed into the auditorium. The large screen that was once darkened and lifeless had now flickered to life and was projecting the image of three figures in a forest, each dressed in outlandish clothes and armor.

The first of the three individuals was dressed in some sort of heavily armoured duster, armoured plating tied to his body with straps of some kind. His head was covered by a strange helmet with glowing red eyes. The man's armor was unlike anything the students had ever seen before. In his hands was a strange contraption of wires and awkward pieces of metal that looked like it had been thrown together in a few minutes using the frame of a gun to structure it on. Attached to the man's chestplate, along with various types of ammunition, was a sheathed knife. A holstered pistol hung off his hip.

The second individual's head and arms were completely concealed by bandages. His torso was covered by a shirt and a bulletproof vest. Old tattered jeans covered the length of his legs. In his hands was an old looking rifle with wooden grips on the barrel and handle, a wooden stock on the back with the word 'Arrêt' painstakingly scratched into the wood. On his hip was a pistol holster, currently occupied by a fancy looking pistol. A few hand-held explosives were also attached to the man's belt.

The final man was dressed in a sleeveless duster, armor lining the insides as well as his torso beneath his clothing. His mouth was covered by, what looked like, some sort of gas mask or breathing mask. His black hair was styled into dreadlocks and his skin was a darker tone than what most Beacon students were used to seeing. On the back of the man's duster was an unfamiliar symbol or emblem: A star in the center of a blue circle, which, in turn, was lined with several smaller stars on the inner lines of the circle. Five red lines ran the rest of the length down the man's duster, each connected to the circle. Resting on his shoulder was a device that replicated a rocket launcher, bearing the same emblem that the figure had on his back. He supported the rocket launcher with both his hands. On his back was a sniper rifle that nearly stretched his entire body length. Next to it was a long staff that stretched slightly longer than the sniper, a golden eagle perched atop. A small SMG sat on the back of his waist accompanied by a few explosives, some cylindrical, some that resembled a pineapple.

The students (and a few teachers) were completely dumbfounded when they saw the attire and weaponry. They looked like they came from an entirely different world. Each of the figures' armor and weapon choices were completely unseen in Remnant and looked as if they had been thrown together by a scavenger who got their hands on some slightly valuable equipment. All of their equipment looked as if it had been through hell, coated with scratches, dirt and dents.

"Holy crap! That guy is _fucking_ decked!" Yang marvelled at the third figure's impressive stock of weaponry whilst Ruby practically fainted at the sight of the outlandish weaponry. Blake looked impressed and Weiss had her usual scowl covering her face.

The first and second figures took point whilst the third figure followed behind, rockets at the ready. Their first Grimm encounter was with a few stray Beowolves that were delivered two bullets each by the second man's rifle. The group kicked the bodies, confirming the Grimm's death, before venturing deeper into the forest.

Their second Grimm encounter was with an entire pack of Beowolves, their numbers reaching into the twenties. The second man took out at least ten before the Beowolves were within striking distance, although those that were fortunate enough to get so close were instantly melted by the first man's weapon. His rugged rifle fired green blobs that killed Beowolves with ease, even passing through its target and going on to make its mark in a tree or another Grimm. Some of the Beowolves that were hit were liquefied in contact with the glowing green orb. The third man mowed down a couple Beowolves that got too close with his SMG. The figures reloaded their respective weapons and continued onward, moving at jogging speeds, even with their weaponry and armor weighing them down.

Ruby and Yang gawked at the sight of the first figure's weapon, Ruby actually fainting but was quickly awoken by the sound of more gunshots. Blake was busy trying to figure out how the man's gun had turned a Beowolf into a pile of green goo so quickly and easily. Weiss was paying minute, although some, attention to the live video feed, also trying to comprehend the logic of the first figure's weapon.

The auditorium was filled with the occasional 'woot!'s and cheers and the odd chorus of 'OH MY GOD!'s when the three men would use their weapons (mostly just the first one). There would even be the occasional scream from Ruby and a couple other weapon geeks in the school. Although their current display of weaponry was already impressive, every single student and teacher in the room awaited the use of the third figure's rocket launcher.

The trio eventually came across the temple and conversed a short while. To the students, each of their voices sounded _AWESOME!_ The first's voice was slightly muffled and had an almost robotic tone to it, probably a feature of his helmet. The second's voice was also muffled but sounded like the voice of wisdom. His voice was the complete opposite to the violence they were currently displaying. The third and final figure had the voice that sent shivers down your spine as it narrated your favourite horror story or gave you a lethal dose of facts and knowledge.

After a few seconds of talking, the first figure scooped up the only chess piece there (black king) and a wave of green covered it before it vanished into thin air, not a trace of it remaining. A slight aura of fear crossed over the auditorium, but was quickly engulfed by a large wave of confusion. Even the teachers were dumbfounded by this simple feat. Even Ozpin and Goodwitch were questioning where these men had come from.

Ozpin had simply assumed that they were just wanderers who had found their way to Beacon by mistake. He had also assumed that they hadn't been well educated since they had inquired about Grimm and what they were as soon as he had mentioned it. Deep down, he knew there was something off about these people, but he just didn't quite know what that something was. What he witnessed on the large screen in front of him only solidified his concerns and prompted him to ask even more questions than he had originally intended to when he got the chance.

The three set to journey back to the cliff but were stopped by distinct movement and loud rustling in the treeline they were heading for. Without further warning, a Deathstalker burst through the treeline, toppling trees and snapping its claws together looking to make a meal out of the mysterious trio.

The first one shouted, "RADSCORPION!" and the third one raised and aimed his rocket launcher, but was stopped by the first figure.

"This has punched through everything else here; I don't see why it won't melt through this ugly bastard." He raised his rifle and fired, the green blobs flying towards the Deathstalker. The large Grimm's armor strained against the green substance as it struggled to resist against the foreign weaponry. In the end, the green projectiles managed to melt through the armor, but that only enraged the massive Grimm as it charged forth.

The first figure now gave the ok for the third to use his rocket launcher. He raised the large firearm and took aim down the rectangular sight, aiming it dead center of the Deathstalker, where the green substance had managed to penetrate the armor. He fired three times.

Three red circular projectiles shot through the air on a course for the Deathstalker. Upon contact, they erupted into a beautiful display of swirling redness, each one slowing the Deathstalker's advance until the third stopped the large scorpion-like creature dead in its tracks. The Deathstalker lay lifeless, only managing to cover half the distance between the treeline and its would-be dinner.

The third figure didn't bother reloading his rocket launcher after the encounter.

The auditorium fell under a deadly silence after they witnessed the Deathstalker being silenced by the mysterious trio, just short of ten seconds.

"Did I say Radscorpion?" asked the first figure, "I meant Deathstalker…"

"Doesn't matter, old habits." Said the second.

The third remained silent as they retraced their steps to the cliffs, only encountering a couple Ursai and Beowolves on the way. The first one had shouted "YAO GUAI!" when they first encountered an Ursa, but once again corrected his naming error as he did with the Deathstalker.

Needless to say, these bizarre fighters would have a good amount of questions to answer…

* * *

**Yay fighting...**


	5. Chapter 5 - Wasteland Worries

**Happy Thanksgiving to the United States and Canada**

* * *

**S.P.E.C.I.A.L: Courier Six: (Intense Training: Rank 5 + Implants)**

**Strength: 7 (Implant)**

**Perception: 6 (Implant)**

**Endurance: 9 (Implant)**

**Charisma: 6 (Implant)**

**Intelligence: 7**

**Agility: 8**

**Luck: 5**

* * *

**S.P.E.C.I.A.L: Joshua Graham (Official)**

**Strength: 6**

**Perception: 7**

**Endurance: 10**

**Charisma: 7**

**Intelligence: 7**

**Agility: 8**

**Luck: 5**

* * *

**S.P.E.C.I.A.L: Ulysses (Official)**

**Strength: 10**

**Perception: 10**

**Endurance: 10**

**Charisma: 11 (Apparel Bonus)**

**Intelligence: 10**

**Agility: 10**

**Luck: 10**

* * *

**I am now referring to Joshua Graham as 'Graham' most of the time**

* * *

**Chapter 5:**

"God, this is worse than the damned children of the waste…" Six grumbled as he tried to swat away the annoying crowd of students that were constantly pestering him about his weapon.

"At least they actually tried to rip me off…" he groaned as a student waved some lien in the air, constantly requesting if he could purchase the weapon.

"Damn stupid kid and his damned 'toy'… Sell me a toy for 1000 caps will you…" he sighed at the memory of Max in Freeside when the little kid tried to sell him a toy gun for 1000 caps. Turns out that 'toy' was actually a targeting device for one of the most devastating weapons Six knew existed.

* * *

**That night...**

The dorm room had fallen silent for most of the hour, so Six decided to strike up a conversation.

"Do you ever think we could get used to this?" he asked, eyes fixed on the door by the foot of his bed. Graham and Ulysses looked over to him.

"I mean, I'm used to moving around, used to being on the run. I've never stayed in one place for more than a day, never had a home and yet here I am, living in conditions far superior to even the strip."

"These people are living the high life," he continued, "Whilst we were running from our fears in a baron wasteland filled with nothing more than death. From what I hear, we never had the worst of it. From what I've heard, D.C is a real dump, mutants everywhere, mercenaries being hired to kill everyone in sight. _The Enclave._"

"I agree," Graham spoke, "These people have been living in quite… luxurious conditions. Still though, it is best we keep our true origins from these people whilst we remain here."

Ulysses spoke next, "I believe that may be a difficult task to complete, I have been watching a group of students who seem rather anxious about us."

Six gestured for him to continue

"Black hair red highlights, white hair, black hair, blonde hair, all girls. Don't know their names."

"Those the girls with the weird uh… colour code thing that bothered you earlier?"

"You saw?" Ulysses tilted his head slightly

"He saw," Six pointed to Graham, "He saw, not me. He's a little more perceptive than I am."

Silence followed for a brief moment before Joshua Graham spoke up.

"Either way, these people wouldn't be able to comprehend the horrors of the wastes." He held a bandaged hand in front of his face, scorched fingers breaking the clean white bandages.

"We'll just keep our secrets under wraps." Six said, earning a glare from Joshua, "Wrong choice of words…"

"May God keep our secrets safe." Graham concluded, now staring dead center of the door.

* * *

The conversation in the room fell silent once more as Weiss pressed her ear harder against the door to the Wastelanders' dorm room. The rest of her team stood behind her, eager to hear the conversation.

"What are they saying?" asked Ruby from beside her

"Shh!" Weiss hissed, "I'm trying to listen!"

Silence

"It's completely quiet!" Weiss hissed again

"Well, what were they saying earlier?" Yang whispered

"I don't know I couldn't hear!" Weiss retorted

"Did you at least get the subject?" Blake questioned

"Something about where they came from." Weiss said

"What about their weapons?" Ruby inquired

"Ruby!" Yang shouted only to realise that she had raised her voice a little too high. She clamped her hands over her mouth just before the door clicked open and Six was standing in the doorway, the door now closed shut.

"Problem?" he asked

"No…" Team RWBY responded simultaneously

"Questions?" he asked

They nodded

"About?"

"Weapons!" Ruby squealed, fist flying into the air above her head only to be pulled back by Yang when she started hopping towards Six.

"What was your name?" asked Weiss, arms folded as per usual

Six tilted his head, "Was?"

Weiss sighed, "Is," she corrected herself

"Better. Name's Six."

"Six?" questioned Yang, "That's an odd name to have."

"More of an alias." Six explained, "Not my given name."

"What is your given name then?" Yang asked

"Next question."

"What's your na-"

"I said _next question_" he hissed

"Alright alright, sheesh," Yang raised her hands in self defence

"Are you okay?" asked Ruby, "You seemed kind of happy and jumpy in the forest but now you're all… dull."

"I don't usually trust strangers." He replied, "And when you say happy and jumpy, take a look at yourself. It is beyond me how you all remain so happy…" he sighed, disappearing into the Wastelanders' dorm room

Team RWBY just looked at each other and shrugged, mentally agreeing that 'Six' was an asshole.

* * *

Even Six was confused. Why was he suddenly such an asshole? Six had always managed to remain positive, even after being shot in the head. Twice! Perhaps it was the feeling of anger and hatred towards these people who had lived such a beautiful care-free life, safe from harm all huddled up inside their walls. The wasteland had no walls, no happiness, no joy, no prosperity. It was always kill or be killed, scavenge to survive, live on your own piss and shit if it came to that. And yet here these people were, a healthy meal each day, parents still alive (unless they were one of the unlucky few), going to _school,_ a privilege that had been taken from the people of Earth long ago, when the bombs dropped.

Six wondered what the reaction of these children would be if they ever learned about the Wastelanders' past. The horror, the gore, the pain they all endured whilst these people sat around shooting the odd animal that got too close with their fancy looking guns or whatever they had.

The looks on their faces would be priceless.

Had they even ever seen a Wastelander before? A dirty, homeless, bum who had managed to wander far enough to the west? A fully armoured walking bringer of death, bearing energy weapons of unimaginable proportions.

Had they ever seen the creatures of the wastes before? Radioactive, mutated monstrosities that looked to prey on the flesh of humans, sometimes even throwing their basic animal instincts to the wind and working together to achieve a common goal, kill the human. Had they seen a Deathclaw before? Claws long and sharper than razors, legs faster than the wind itself. Mouths and eyes of demons.

He let out a low growl.

"Calm down." Joshua Graham said, hand rested on Six's fully armoured shoulder, "They obviously haven't seen people like us before. They obviously don't know a thing about what we've been through."

Six shrugged Joshua's hand off his shoulder and went to pick up his plasma rifle, heading for the door once more. Joshua Graham sighed, looking himself over again.

**|-LINE BREAK?-|**

Night fell quickly and Graham stood alone on the rooftops of Beacon Academy, only the subtle, cool breeze to accompany him. He had longed to feel the touch of the air upon his bare skin once again, but this would have to do. His eyes were closed and he focused on the sounds of the night.

The sounds were silent, only the swaying of the breeze could be heard. A light tapping overruled the whistling winds for no more than a second before stopping. Someone was on the roof with him. Graham ignored the noise for a moment and continued focusing his senses on the night, feeling the air against his scorched fingers, tasting the sweet taste of freedom, smelling nothing at all. His mouth grew into a small smile beneath his carapace of bandages and he turned, opening his eyes and drawing A Light Shining in Darkness.

He held the .45 pistol limp at his side as he stared across the rooftop and down the sealed stairwell. His gaze pierced through the closed door and into an empty stairwell. Graham raised his pistol, aiming directly at the stairwell, then shifted the barrel's gaze slightly to the right, into the shadows near the stairwell. His finger squeezed on the trigger and the gunshot rang out, only to be drowned out by the deadly silence of the night.

A shuffle was heard, then a thud before a young girl appeared from the shadows, hands slightly raised in surrender. Her hair was long and black; she wore a black and white outfit and a bow upon her head. Graham recognised her as one of the girls who were pestering Ulysses the previous day. He lowered his unique weapon but kept the gun levelled at waist height.

"Why are you here?" Graham inquired. The girl lowered her hands.

"We just wanted to learn more." She replied, calm tone in her voice.

"We?"

"My team."

Team? How can one be so trustful of a group of others?

"Your team." Graham started, "Do you trust them?"

"Of course," came the raven-haired girl's reply.

"Would you trust them with your life?"

"…Not yet." Her reply was hesitant.

"…With your secrets?"

'_Could he know?' _the cat faunus thought to herself, alarm racing through her head, _'No, it's impossible.'_

The girl remained silent as her hair swayed gently in the breeze. Graham holstered A Light Shining in Darkness, a click sounding as the pistol slid into its holster.

"Run along," he said, "A girl such as yourself will not find any happiness in a man like me. Just pain to be had here."

Joshua Graham turned around and looked back out to the world below Beacon, all of it still encased in and endless shroud of darkness, occasionally broken by the odd light on the street or a lit up monument. By the time he turned back to the rooftop, several minutes later, the raven-haired girl had dulled her presence, disappearing from the rooftop completely, only leaving the faint smell of lavender drifting about in the air where she once stood, unmoved by the wind.

He pondered thoughts in his mind. Why are they so trustworthy? What is the military presence of this place?

One thought overruled them all.

'Why are we such a new presence? All we did was walk west. Surely there must have been other Wastelanders who have passed through.'

Graham dismissed the questions to be answered later. What he really needed now was sleep. So he did just that.

Ulysses sat undisturbed in the library, book in hands, arms resting on a fine wooden table. The feeling of polished wood was so unfamiliar to his skin, it felt nice to feel the touch of money against your skin, especially when dirt was all that was rubbed in your face as you stalk the Divide, waiting.

The book he held was entitled 'Nature's Mysteries'

There were many intriguing creatures featured in the book. A never before seen Grimm, some sort of giant fish that was found in a large lake named 'Missle Lake'.

But it was a strange creature that bore a striking resemblance to humans that caught his eye. Black scaly skin, piercing white eyes that stood out in the darkness like lighthouses, gruesome black claws nearly smothered in blood.

The image was hazy and unprofessional, but Ulysses had the perception of an eagle. The well-known form of a Tunneler was present in this book. Mutated humans of Hopeville that took refuge underground during the Great War, radiation got to them, turning them into the Tunnelers that Ulysses knew too well.

The Tunnelers had no known contact with surface-dwellers for centuries. That was until the Courier unintentionally detonated the Hopeville nukes. Tunnelers had never been seen outside the Divide before.

Why would they be here? Why not the Mojave Wasteland? Even so, it was only predicted that they would reach the Mojave by 2281.

Ulysses kept the book in his possession. He would read it every day, trying to find more creatures of the wastes. It would be kept hidden from the other members of his party for the time being. They did not need to know yet; neither did the children in this school.

The children seemed adventurous enough to go out looking for something they know they'll never find. They didn't need to go looking for radioactive creatures that posed a threat far superior to their 'Grimm'

Whilst the Grimm had their sights set on the destruction of humanity and the creatures of the wastes didn't, they still seemed to outmatch these creatures of darkness, both physically and mentally. Grimm learned from mistakes, so did the creatures of the wastes, except the mutant creatures are born with superior knowledge.

Either way, the creatures of the wastes were not something these people wanted to deal with on top of their Grimm problem.

* * *

**Sorry this took so long, had to re-write the chapter as I didn't believe it to be good enough and I just really haven't had the knack for writing this particular story the past week. I will try to keep updates frequent, hopefully weekly.**


	6. Chapter 6 - Early Morning Run

**How does Joshua Graham eat? I don't know, so he won't eat.**

**Chapter 6:**

Six had found his way to the school's running track and was now running full laps in his usual gear in an attempt to improve his speed whilst encumbered and general manoeuvrability. Six had never gotten much of a chance to have a conventional jog. Most of the time it was running to and from places, shooting most things he found along the way, human or not.

The Courier finished up a twelfth lap of the one-thousand meter track and sat down to drink from a bottle of water he had obtained from the school's canteen. He slipped his helmet off, not an ounce of sweat on his face, and shoved the water bottle between his lips, downing over half of the bottle in a matter of seconds. He quickly finished the remainder of the water bottle's contents and ended up heaving his chest in and out, taking in as much air as he could. It tasted so much better than the crap he drank back in the wastes.

He could've sworn that stuff was 50% dirt, 25% radioactive waste, 20% bloatfly crap and 5% water. The few bottles of purified water were a leap forward from your traditional wasteland water, but still nothing compared to this heavenly water that he had just rushed down his throat.

He slipped his Elite Riot Gear helmet back onto his head, clicking his neck as he did so. The helmet's red eyes scanned the open and empty field around him as he sat cross legged in the middle of the tracks.

Well, the field wasn't exactly empty. It was mostly empty, save one blonde haired girl making repeated laps around the track. Six had failed to notice when this girl had made herself present on the field, but it couldn't have been long ago, he would've noticed if they had been running laps since he was.

Who else would be up at 3:00am?

The girl grew closer and, to Six's slight dismay, he recognised the girl. Her most prominent feature was clearly her breast size, but Six hadn't been interested in that. There was no time for that in Six's case.

He couldn't exactly put his finger on where he remembered this girl from.

Six was more interested in figuring out her physique. From what he saw, the girl appeared to be 'above average' physically as he could make out slight muscular features about her arms. He wanted to ask how many laps she had done, how long she had been out here. So he waited for her to near.

The blonde girl stopped a couple meters short of Six, breathing heavily, hands on knees.

"How many laps?" Six questioned, standing over her

"Thirteen," she panted

"Only thirteen?" he asked

"How many you done?" she retorted, standing back to her full height, breath regained

"Twelve." He simply replied

"Pfft. Pussy." The blonde girl teased, grinning

"In case you haven't noticed, I am carrying nearly three hundred pounds worth of equipment." Six's eyes narrowed beneath his helmet

"Whatever… I never got your name?" the girl grinned. Six remembered now, this was one of the girls who had eavesdropped on his party's conversation the previous night.

"My name… I told you my name, it's Six."

"Yeah, but you said it was an alias, I want your _real _name."

"I… don't exactly know that."

"_Whaaaat?_ Waddya mean?"

"Just… it's a sensitive subject, alright?"

"Is it?"

"… Not really. I just don't know. Must've forgotten it."

"How does someone forget their name?"

"Amnesia."

"Amnesia? What from?"

"Things… What was your name?" Six decided to switch the subject in order to avoid having to talk about his past.

"Oh, right! My name's Yang! I take it you want me to introduce you to the rest of the team?"

"When I meet them. Can we walk? I need to get back to my party."

"Party? You mean team, right?"

"The ceremony is tonight. _Then,_ and only _then_, you can call us a team."

"Whatever suits you…"

The two started making their way to the dormitories.

"Listen," Six spoke up, "I apologise for last night, I was just a little stressed."

"No problem! Can I ask why you were stressed?"

"You really are curious, aren't you?"

Yang pouted

"Just… reasons. Reasons you don't need to know." Six told her as they neared the entrance to the dormitory building.

"Why are you up so early?" Yang asked

"I could ask the same thing. It's custom to rise early where I'm from."

"Where are you from?"

"That is a question I will not answer until you are my very bestest friend. Only then I will answer your pestering questions." Six smiled behind his metallic helmet

Yang snickered, "That sounded so stupid."

"I know."

"Well, you'd best hope to not meet my sister!"

"I won't ask."

The two parted ways, Yang headed wherever she was headed and Six back into his dorm.

* * *

"I managed to befriend one of the children," Six said, slumping down on his claimed bed. Joshua Graham, who was sat at a table in the corner of the room, inspecting weapons, swivelled around on his office chair.

"Which one?" The Burned Man questioned

"The blonde from a couple days back. Yang, her name is."

Ulysses was not currently present in the room. Where he was, Six and Graham had no idea. They decided it be best to leave Ulysses to his own things.

"And how, pray tell, did you manage to do that?" Graham asked, "Did you beat her into submission?"

"Hey!" Six held his hands up in defence, "I haven't hurt anyone for two whole days, new record! I was just a little friendlier than I usually am. Had to dodge a couple questions though."

"Suspicious?"

"Very. No doubt her team will ask questions when we meet them."

"When _you_ meet them." Graham corrected his teammate

"No, when _we _met them. We all need to socialise with these people more. Find out more about them, what goes on in their heads, their reaction to our stories."

"The stories will come at a later date, though?"

"Of course. All I want to do is get in their heads. Know their lives."

"I'm sure Ulysses would have a way around that. I don't know him very well, but he seems to be the most charismatic of us."

"I'm sure he wants to know more about them too. I was thinking we could catch them at breakfast."

"Seems like a sound plan."

* * *

Ulysses sat alone once more, just like he had done for the entirety of his neglected life. He sat reading that very same book showcasing nature's mysteries, in the library as he had done before. So far, the former legionary had only discovered Tunnelers and Mole Rats in the book, along with some strange egg which apparently never hatched under the care of scientists. Ulysses didn't take much time to look at the egg.

Ulysses didn't exactly _want _to be reading this book, but found himself forced to do so, for the safety of him and his comrades, perhaps the people of this world. He would much prefer to read up on the history of this place, the decisions made by famous politicians or war generals. He wanted to find out more about the different factions of this place, the White Fang and the criminal underworld.

He took some time out to research some more on faunus, part humans with animal traits and features, most subjected to hate and violence from humans. He didn't bother with anything more.

He cast his mind back to the Bear and the Bull, how much larger and more extreme they were than the multiple factions of Remnant. He wondered why the NCR had not yet found this world as it was closest to their territory after all.

Ulysses very much wanted to talk to some White Fang members and get their opinion on the current state of the world, why had they taken their cause to such extreme levels in an otherwise peaceful world?

There would always be something to counteract the good of a world, only if all that good hasn't been taken from it already, like Earth.

With luck, Ulysses would passively discover a member of this 'White Fang' cause. He would ask his questions and be done with them. His knowledge would expand, his wisdom would grow, and he would kill if he needed to, if he wanted to. It was always like this, with the Twisted Hairs, with Caesar's Legion, all the same loop repeated over and over again.

His eyes scanned through the pages as he constantly flicked the paper over, revealing the next page every few seconds. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of a clock that hung on the wall. The hands pointed to 12:46. It was still light out, so Ulysses assumed it was afternoon.

He shut 'Nature's Mysteries' and returned it to one of his duster's many pockets, looking up at the small stack of five books that he had previously gone through earlier in the morning. From around 3am he had been analysing several books, each centred mainly on faunus and the White Fang, though he could only find one good book on the White Fang.

He stood and placed the books he had taken back into their respective positions on their shelves before returning to his dorm room.

* * *

Six lay on the floor, still fully armoured, examining a large chunk of small print on one of his many Microfusion Cells.

Joshua Graham was currently seated by one of the two tables in the room, reassembling A Light Shining in Darkness for the third time that day. He checked each component, cleaning them with a small cloth he had stowed in his pocket.

The two checked their ammo reserves. Enough for the next week or so provided they would only have to use as much as they did in the initiation each day. Hopefully they wouldn't need to use any.

A quiet click sounded from the door as it slid open, quickly shutting once more after Ulysses stepped into the room holding a large black case by his side.

"There you are!" Six jumped up from his prone position on the floor, "We were just about to go get something to eat. I managed to befriend one of the four that pestered you the other day."

Ulysses did nothing but hold out a large black case to the courier.

"What's this?" Six asked

"Alpha Strike mod, for Red Glare. Thought it might be useful." Ulysses replied, Six slowly taking the case from his outstretched hand.

"Found it at the end of the Courier's Mile."

"Where have you been keeping… never mind, I'll mod Red Glare after we get some food, already missed breakfast attempting to manufacture extra ammo without a workbench of any kind…" Six sighed, "You coming?"

Ulysses replied with a small nod and the three set off for the school's dining hall, leaving their weaponry behind in their assigned dorm room.


	7. Chapter 7 - God Sent Us West

**Just a heads-up, I may have written east a couple times when I meant to write west. Sorry about that.**

**Also, sorry for the late update, been very busy lately. Plus, I violently murdered my finger and hand (it wasn't that violent) and needed time to heal before I could write effectively (time efficiently) again. **_**(Pffft, what a stupid lie)**_

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**Chapter 7: God Sent Us West**

Silence seemed to echo around the table and throughout the six people seated at it. Though the entire cafeteria was bustling with talk and laughter, one particular table remained dead silent, creating its own separate atmosphere, completely oblivious to the rest of the room.

Names had been exchanged previously, but now a dense, silent atmosphere became apparent.

That atmosphere was shattered by a subtle 'clack' as Joshua Graham laid his pistol in the center of the table; he then proceeded to spin the gun. The gun spun on its side for a few seconds before the barrel settled its gaze on Yang Xiao Long.

"Ask," Joshua Graham requested. Silence was dominant once more for the next few seconds, but the questions eventually flowed through.

"Where are you from?" Yang asked, quietly devouring the school meal in front of her. Six decided to slip his helmet off, placing it on the table in front of him and revealing a head of messy brown hair and a set of delicate blue eyes. His face was clean-shaven and a pair of circular scars showed themselves on his fore head. He quickly ruffled his hair and straightened it out, pushing it to the right before offering a reply.

"West." He said

"That's it?" came a response from Blake Belladonna as she set down one of her many books.

"Far west." Was the reply from Six

"No, she means a name." retorted Weiss, a permanent scowl plastered onto her face, clearly untrusting of the three newcomers.

Six threw a quick glance over to his companions, who were seated beside himself, before replying with, "A place called The Mojave Wasteland."

It was at this moment that Ulysses had realised the absence of one of the four female teammates, so he questioned her whereabouts.

"There were four of you." He said, not even posing it as a question, but they seemed to catch on to his subtly placed question.

"Oh," Yang replied, "Ruby said she needed to do something _really _important when she saw you three."

The three Wastelanders looked to each other, "Did she specify?" Graham asked

"No, but she shot off really quickly. Let's just carry on…"

_**Meanwhile…**_

Ruby Rose snuck discreetly through the door to the Wastelanders' dorm, hoping to go unnoticed.

The moment she saw the Wastelanders near weaponless; she had sped off to find their dorm room. The young girl had absolutely no idea which dorm was theirs, so she had ended up breaking into multiple dorm rooms using some unknown strategy to do so without eliciting a single sound or breaking a single door.

She tiptoed in a stealthy manor, dashing between several tables, chairs and beds as a means of cover to remain undetected by whatever she thought might see her. She began to drool at the sight before her.

She had finally found it, that arsenal of weapons that had bugged her mind the past day and night. So far, she could only spy one of the two weapons she had so eagerly wanted to study. She had found the large shoulder-mounted weapon the sleeveless man had decimated a Deathstalker with. Up close, it looked as if it had just been delivered from heaven, a spotlight of holy light shining down upon the marvel of weaponry laid onto a table in front of her.

A slow stream of saliva escaped her mouth as it hung agape. Her eyes locked on the weapon's intricate designs, examining each and every visible part of the weapon before her gaze finally settled on Old Glory. Her eyes quickly moved on from Old Glory as she reached out to cradle the weapon in her hands, only to find herself unable to lift the device from its place on the table. She tried multiple times to lift the weapon, only to receive the same result as she had received previously.

Ruby eventually gave up on lifting the rocket launcher and instead tried to push her fingers around the mechanical parts of the weapon, intent on studying it as much as she could.

After nearly thirty minutes, she gave up trying to examine the weapon, deciding it would be easier if she saw it in action with someone who could actually lift it. That was a question that crossed her mind, 'How did he lift this thing!? It's so heavy!'

She moved on to find the weapon that the armoured one had used, 'Six, I think his name was…'

She was overly pleased to find the second weapon on her mental list, 'the green rifle that shot green blobs'

Much like the rocket launcher, it too looked much more aesthetically pleasing in person, though it still retained the appearance of an improvised weapon thrown together with a multitude of random parts.

The rifle looked a great deal simpler up close and Ruby could predict how the weapon worked.

Ruby Rose would marvel over the weapon for the next fifteen or so minutes, before deciding that she should get one of the new people to show her how it worked when she couldn't work it herself, much like the rocket launcher, but she could just barely pick this one up.

Much against her body's judgement, her mind told her to refrain from intruding further. She would have to leave before she was found out, but not without taking a small souvenir first.

They wouldn't notice, right?

"The Mojave Wasteland?" Blake asked, splitting her gaze between the three Wastelanders, "Why is it called that?"

Six put a hand to his forehead, mumbling, "Oh God, they really don't know Earth…"

Joshua Graham decided to take up the conversation, "The Mojave is a desert. It was turned into a wasteland after the bombs fell."

"Bombs?" Yang diverted her attention from Six to Joshua

"The Great War. Whole world blew itself up with nuclear missiles. World turned into a wasteland after that."

Six decided to move the conversation along, "Alright, next question."

Weiss was next to state her mind, "What's that?" she asked, gesturing to the device on Six's wrist.

"This?" Six said, holding up his arm and showing his Pip-Boy, "This is a Pip-Boy 3000. Keeps tabs on my vitals, radiation levels, inventory, karma level, location, etcetera."

"What's a… _radiation level?_" Yang questioned prompting Six to adopt a confused look on his face.

"You don't know what radiation is? Do you even know what nukes are?"

A chorus of shaking heads as Six thought.

"Well… I suppose if you don't have nuclear weapons… yeah, makes sense you don't know what radiation is… but seriously though, it's kinda basic science. You know, alpha radiation, beta radiation, stuff like that?"

More shaking heads.

"You don't know what electromagnetic waves are?"

Only two shaking heads this time.

"What the hell do they teach you kids!?" Six threw his hands up dramatically to express his confusion. "Hang on a minute," he pointed to Blake, "You didn't shake your head. You know what EMR is?"

Nod

"Praise the Lord!" More dramatic throwing of hands in the air whilst the five others looked at him questionably, though more Yang, Weiss and Blake than Joshua Graham and Ulysses, "They're slightly intelligent!"

Ulysses felt the need to take over, "You do not have nuclear warheads?"

"No idea what that is!" Yang perked up for some reason

"Damn," Six started, "You guys really are the Pacifists you look like…"

"You have more questions?" Joshua turned his attention from Six to the girls, Blake spoke their next question.

"Where exactly is this 'Mojave Wasteland', we've never heard of it before. What kingdom is it in?" She asked

Six replied with, "Bum fuck nowhere, that's where. I'm gettin' a feeling you aren't really familiar with any of…" He gestured to himself and his companions, "This."

"We've never seen anyone like you before, who are you with?" Yang asked

"Who are we with? Well, faction wise," His eyes caught a glance of Ulysses, who made subtle body movements that suggested 'make something up'

"We are all part of a tribe known as the Dead Horses," he lied, using Joshua Graham's tribe as filler for a faction, "But we are each our own people, as you can tell by our separate clothing choices, though this isn't really considered 'clothing' around here, is it?" He looked his armor over.

"Why are you here?" Weiss spoke up for the second time.

Six looked over to Joshua.

"The Lord has sent us here," Joshua started, "Promised us something new, a clean slate, as you may say."

"How did you… get here?" Yang asked

"Simple," Six replied, "We walked."

"And your… God… gave you directions?"

"Not at all. I heard rumours. Picked these two up when I decided to look for… this place." He gestured outwards and Ulysses decided to pick up the conversation.

"Word said 'go west', so we went, through cracked landscapes to find a sleeping world." Ulysses said

Joshua then added his part, "I believe that God has sent us a quiet message, given us a chance to redeem ourselves."

"Redeem yourselves?" Weiss began to take interest in the conversation now, "What did you do?"

"When you live in a world as harsh as ours, you do despicable things to keep your own life, things the Lord doesn't smile upon. I am no exception…" Joshua's tone remained the same through his sentence.

"You have quite strong religious beliefs," Blake gathered a small amount of interest in In Joshua Graham.

"I was a missionary before I became what I am today."

"Ooh, a story. Tell us more!" Yang perked up before Six butted in to the conversation.

"Woah woah woah," he started, "We talked about this and we all agreed that we won't be telling our life stories to you guys. We don't really trust everyone here yet, and besides, our lives aren't exactly happy campfire stories, hell, they're even more fucked up than some of those shitty horror stories…" Six began to trail off.

"Do you know what the White Fang is?" Blake asked, Ulysses was first to answer

"Faunus civil-rights protesting group. Changed their ways when a new leader stood to authority. Seem to be under control." He answered

"What's your opinion on them?"

"Misguided men and women looking to find something buried under mountains of dirt and rocks. Just a thorn in the world's side, nothing to be taken seriously, but something to be observed." Was Ulysses' answer, and Blake would speak no more.

"What about your weapons?" Yang asked

"Our weapons are fairly standard." Six started, "Providing you watched our initiation, you would've seen the rifle Joshua was using. Belonged to a man named Randall Clark, or 'The Father in the Cave' to our tribe and another. Called it the Survivalist's Rifle. The rocket launcher, Red Glare, is a prototype. Thirteen rockets in three seconds, fully automatic.

"My weapon is a standard Plasma Rifle, mass produced, widely used, high-tech weaponry. Anything else?" Six concluded

"What about that armor?" Weiss asked, pointing to Six. Six slipped his helmet back over his head, eyes flickering from a dead grey to a strong red.

"Found it." Was his simple reply, "Earned it. Comes with night vision included. Saved my life more times than I could account for. I owe everything to this hunk of leather, all my respect. Now that reminds me, we have something we need to attend to, so if you would excuse us." Six nodded to his comrades and the three rose from their seats in the hall.

The three would slowly make their way out of the hall, eyed by the hundreds who were present in the room. Silence bestowed itself upon the room for a short matter of seconds, but noise quickly gathered as the students returned to their daily conversations, conversing about whatever it was they conversed about.

There was even a few hushed whispers opposing the three newcomers, but they were yet to be heard.


	8. Chapter 8 - The Selfish Survivor

**Once again, so sorry for the delay, had an unexpected PC switch and couldn't really find the time to write. But regardless of my excuses, Merry Christmas!**

**A Guest asked if the Wastelanders will be mentors/teachers. The answer is maybe, but that isn't really planned out yet.**

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**Chapter 8: The Selfish Survivor**

"God fucking dammit!" Six's voice echoed through the hallway as he bellowed in anger from inside him and his companions' dorm room, "Why the fuck did we leave our weapons here!? What the fuck were we thinking!?"

The courier's fist collided with the wall, surfacing a light crack on the solid white wall. His hand lapped up one of Joshua Graham's spare 45. Pistols on a nearby table and his feet marched with anger towards the wooden door. He checked the magazine and felt contempt to see a fully loaded clip ready to go.

His foot found the door and violently awoke the entrance, sending the door flying off its hinges and clattering against the floor of the hallways. He soon found the dorm he was looking for, thanking himself for discreetly following Yang earlier in the morning when they had meant to part ways.

This door seemed to have a stronger will than the other, and instead took an extra three boots to send it off its hinges, though the satisfaction of being able to physically demolish a door. Why hadn't he kicked down any other locked door that crossed his path? Actually, come to think of it, he had always felt some kind of overwhelming hindrance whenever he tried to pass through a door by any 'unconventional' means. And every door in the Mojave Wasteland seemed to be resistant to just about anything other than crappy bobby pins for some inexplicable reason.

But that wasn't his concern right now. His concern was regaining his weapon and killing the suspected thief. He had compiled the limited amount of evidence in his head and concluded that the only possible culprit was Ruby Rose. She apparently had something '_really important' _to do, as Yang had explained, when she saw the Wastelanders _without _their weapons and far from their current domain.

He started to enact his wrathful vengeance by firing three stray shots into the room, hitting nothing but concrete and glass, a distinct shattering noise to verify he had hit the latter material. His feet were quick through the doorway and his armed hands scanned the room, trailing the pistol every which way, ready to act at the first sign of movement. That first sign of movement came very quickly.

During his angered outburst, he had been oblivious to the good and bad possibilities and the chance that rushing blindly into a room of four people could turn sour, especially if he was only armed with a pistol. But he could use his fists, they had just as much experience as any of his guns had.

He was quickly rushed by a yellow blur, but his body was quick to react, firing off two bullets and halting the blonde girl, dropping her to her knees. His next two bullets were aimed at a shoddily supported bunk bed to his left, sending the top bunk toppling to the floor and eliciting a scream from the bunk underneath.

His senses flickered strongly and the world slowed as Six engaged his V.A.T.S to locate his targets through the chaos of the current situation.

Time paused and V.A.T.S highlighted Yang as the one he had just shot twice, Blake was jumping into action and Weiss was most probably in a state of shock as she had raised her arms to protect herself as she lay on her bed, just avoiding the weight of Ruby's bunk when it toppled over. Ruby was nowhere to be seen, so Six hoped on the fact she was just in the bathroom.

He targeted Blake's leg, firing three bullets. Two hit, one missed, and she went down like a sack of bricks. Time caught back up to itself and resumed as it normally would, Yang recovering from the two bullets she had taken.

Six cursed himself when he remembered a key term, 'Aura'. It was no wonder these kids could take a few more bullets than the ordinary man.

His pistol trailed back to Yang and h pulled the trigger once more, frustrated to hear the distinct clicking of an empty gun. He dropped the pistol and ducked to avoid a stray punch from the blonde, delivering an elbow to the back of her head when he rose. As she stumbled, the courier threw his own punch at the blonde, only to hit a wall and recoil his fist in anger more than pain.

He would get his gun back and he would be damned if he didn't. Damn thief would get what was coming to her.

He swung his arm left, spinning around to face the entirety of the room once more, and felt satisfied to feel a short-term resistance against his arm that faded just as it had appeared. Satisfied that he had taken one of the three possible threats down, he ran at the only other door he could see, hoping to find a certain red-hooded girl and, hopefully, his Plasma Rifle.

His advance was halted when arms wrapped around his own, restraining him, holding him back. Then all drew black.

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Joshua Graham stood motionless, watching as Ulysses dragged Six's unconscious form out of the room.

Multiple more people were present now, Ozpin, Goodwitch, and multiple other professors or employees on Beacon ground at that current moment.

"-are you listening?" Joshua was jolted out of his current state of mind and the sounds of the world flowed back to him, the chatter of those around him, the angered shouts of a certain few. He turned to face Glynda Goodwitch.

"Of course. We are sorry for this inconvenience, we will try to keep things like this from happening again." He replied. Goodwitch just scoffed and went about her next order of business, walking in the direction of Ozpin. He caught the eye of a girl, Weiss, if he recalled correctly, strutting towards him, a scowl layered on her face.

"Are you going to explain this!?" She scoffed, gesturing to the room with open arms.

"I would be delighted to do so," Joshua started, leaning forward slightly, "Instinct. Instinct that tells us to do whatever necessary to survive. Trust no one, trust only those who are necessary to _your_ survival."

He returned to a straightened posture, "That is what my mistakes have told me, what God has told me… I suggest that you find peace with God, there is a lot a person like you could learn."

"I'm not your God's plaything," She scoffed, "I can do what I want to do, and I don't want to spend my life following some old man that doesn't exist."

Joshua Graham was slightly taken back by the girl's suddenly brash retort, expecting a polite decline from a girl who looked so well-mannered.

"Tell me again, what is it you 'Hunters' and 'Huntresses' do?" He questioned amiably

"We kill Grimm, obviously." Weiss replied, ridiculing him in her words.

"And what are Grimm?"

"Creatures of destruction, the enemy of humanity." The heiress let out a long, miffed sigh, clearly becoming agitated.

"Good. Then you are doing God's work, whether you like it or not." He ran a quick hand over his bandaged face before turning to meet the man that stood behind him. Weiss marched away, as was typical of her.

Joshua turned to face the headmaster of the school, Professor Ozpin, who was first to speak.

"I have been meaning to speak to you for quite some time now, but I haven't really had the right chance to speak as of late. My apologies for delaying this conversation."

Joshua waved his apology off before replying, "I suppose you have questions then?"

Ozpin nodded, "I will start simple. Where are you from? I have never seen your type of… apparel before."

Joshua Graham found no reason to deny the man an explanation, he seemed trustworthy enough, along with his students, well, most of them anyway.

"We came from the east. Are you not familiar with any land to the east? I would expect others from our environment to have been here before, the journey was only several days."

"I'm afraid the only land to the east that I know is Mistral, and their dress code does not reflect yours in the slightest."

"Hmm." Joshua pondered some thoughts, "Perhaps anyone to discover it was killed. It would seem fitting for that to happen." It did seem very fitting to Joshua. Most people who weren't know to their tribe or faction would most likely get killed, the killers assuming them to be hostile, especially if they wore the odd clothing these people did. Of course, if the Legion got their hands on someone from here, they would most likely turn them to slavery. He didn't like to think about that though, bad memories usually accompanied thoughts of Caesar's Legion.

Joshua placed his hand on his chin in thought before continuing, "I do not mean to sound rude or objective, but I would rather hold onto my whereabouts for the time being."

"Of course," Ozpin said, "But I'm afraid I will have to continue trying to pry information from you. My curiosity seems to get the better of me at times."

"Of course, I understand such circumstances first hand."

Joshua watched Ozpin casually evacuate the scene whilst Yang steadily got to her feet, Ruby trying to help her sister up after the resulting concussion from Six's final strike. The two exchanged a few muffled words, most of which were angrily sounded and flowing out of Yang's mouth, as Ulysses re-entered the room, weaponry in hand as to avoid further complications with any possible mistaken thievery.

After a minute or so of searching, Joshua reclaimed the 'stolen' Plasma Rifle that lay stowed away under the sink in the bathroom, holding the rifle with his finger on the trigger. Before he could get a chance to speak with Ulysses, Ruby appeared in a flash of red, sputtering words like a machine gun.

"OhmygodIamsosorryIdidn'tmeantodoitIswearpleaseIamsosorryi'llneverdoitagainIswear!" The young girl's outburst of apologies went by in under a second before she ran out of breath and ceased her soon to be endless stream of apologies to refresh the air in her lungs. Joshua held up a hand, gesturing for her to stop and she did.

"Why did you steal it?" Joshua's question was straight to the point and intended to pull answers from the girl, instead pulling another massive stream of words.

"IjustwantedtohavealookandIwenttoyourdormandIlookedatthebigexplodeygunandthegreenoneandIcouldn'tpickupthebigonesoItookthesmalleroneandIjustwantedtohavealookandstudyitsoIcoulduseitformystuff!" Ruby Rose looked up into Joshua Graham's pale blue eyes, an innocent look flushing over her face. The puppy dog eyes came soon enough.

"You wanted to study our technology…" Joshua started, looking directly into the young girl's eyes, completely unaware of the innocent expression she was trying to beg him with, "So you stole one of our guns…"

A blank look crossed his eyes.

"I'm afraid I cannot see the logical decisions in that series of thoughts."

Ruby still offered no response and continued attempting to drill holes of forgiveness in his face with her inhumanly widened eyes.

"If you are looking for forgiveness, you won't find it here."

Still no response, just the same look.

"You would have to go speak with the courier about that."

The air between the two fell silent once more, lacking a response from the second speaker.

"I'm starting to see the third-world problems."

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Meanwhile, Ulysses was bothering himself with a conversation between himself and Yang, the latter having initiated the conversation against his will. Although Ulysses was aware of his charismatic prowess, he was rather unnerved by the innocence and happiness of the people in this school. Unlike Joshua Graham, he was having little trouble adapting to this more civilised life that this place offered.

"Would you mind telling me what that was all about?" Yang asked for a second time after Ulysses neglected to answer when she had questioned him the first time.

"You got a life too many in you. Surprised he didn't kill you. Maybe his mind was more set on something other."

"Uh, hello? You're not answering my question here." Yang waited for the answer she wanted

"Patience is a test. Shouldn't let impatience overcome your mind."

"Uh… question?" Yang said, striking an odd pose and placing her hands on her hips.

Ulysses tilted his head, "There is a thief among you. Let's see to it that it does not happen today. We should be killing you right now."

"_A thief!?" _Yang gasped in horror, greatly over exaggerating the amount of surprise in her voice, "We wouldn't steal anything, right?" She looked around for someone to support her cause, but nobody was around. The only other two people in the room at the moment were Joshua and Ruby, currently locked in what seemed to be a staring contest of sorts.

"The courier does not bode well to thievery. None of us do where we walked from."

"Well, sorry to say, but you don't exactly look the part." Yang raised an eyebrow to question his appearance.

"Looks can be deceiving. Good for first impressions, could weather the storm. You, on the other hand… not much to say about you. But I suppose looks can be deceiving in different ways."

"Hey!" Yang frowned, "I appreciate my sexiness!"

"What did you do with those looks, that attitude? Killed yet?"

"I… uh…" Yang began to get nervous.

"Seen that look in your eyes before. No doubt about it."

"I…"

"Not my place to tell you what's wrong, what's right. Don't blame you for killing though, can't blame for instinctive needs." Ulysses left the conversation swiftly, leaving a confused, if not fearful Yang behind to reflect on her decisions. Joshua followed swiftly after Ulysses, closing the door as they made their exit, leaving Yang and Ruby alone, Ruby still looking for forgiveness.

Joshua looked the Plasma Rifle over once more. Was it worth the pain?


	9. Chapter 9 - Side Quest

**Tell me what you think! I hunger for feedback!**

**Chapter 9: Side Quest**

"Why do you carry that gun?" Ulysses had spoken as he watched Courier Six examine the Survivalist's Rifle over and over, checking and re-checking the ammunition, ensuring the integrity of the rifle. He sat against the wall, resting his head against the solid wooden wall, near where he had previously cracked it.

"Why do you carry that rifle with you? Carried it through the Divide, still carry it now." Six wore his armour and helmet faultily, still degraded from what could be considered a 'mental breakdown' earlier in the day.

"This rifle?" His body settled, his hands unmoving, "This rifle has rid the lands of Zion of corrupt killers, protected those who sought refuge, watched over the children who soon grew to become those who inhabit Zion today."

His head stooped and he pulled the rifle closer to his hands, "The White Legs destroyed New Canaan, this rifle destroyed the White legs. I have carried this rifle from the caves of Zion to the storms of the Divide. I have killed assassins to Deathclaws with this gun, a real tool of survival."

The room fell silent for a few moments.

"That aside," Six continued, "I managed to find us some contract work. We'll be escorting a convoy through the city of Vale, the big one a couple miles away. In the dead of night, no less."

"Contract work will only lead us to our deaths." Ulysses said

"It's just one contract. Besides, the pay was pretty big, five hundred thousand Lien each. Not sure how much that is, but the number is big so I ought to assume that it's good pay."

"They would let up so much money for a simple guard unit."

"Supposed to be some pretty important people. They wouldn't tell who though."

Joshua spoke up as the door clicked open, the Burned man entering the room casually and seating himself on his bed and producing a brown medical bag.

"I forgot to ask before, but why did you think it be a good idea to sign a contract for us to be a guard detail?"

Six replied simply with, "I needed some time to cool off. Some girl pulled me aside, the numbers were too big to resist."

"Could be a fraud. A scam that would only result in death." Ulysses said

"There was nothing too off about the girl. Kinda seemed like a princess in some manner." Six said

Joshua produced a wrap of bandages from the brown bag. "We would just have to wait and see. It might be a good chance to get better acquainted with this place."

"You know what," Six continued, somewhat zoning in and out of thought as he spoke, "That girl looked like that Weiss girl now that I think about it… That was her name right? The stuck up bitch in the white outfit?"

"I believe that is the one," Joshua replied, confirming Six's notion, "Though that amount of profanity against one single person isn't absolutely necessary."

"That amount of profanity is absolutely necessary, Graham," Six said, standing to his feet, "She spat in the face of your God and though I would most probably dismiss that if this were a regular everyday situation, we are currently in a pre-war world here. This place is civilised and it pains me to hear someone degrade God in such a way." Six finished, having moved from one end of the room to the other, resting himself on the opposite wall to his previous lounging position.

"You never heard the conversation, Six." Joshua said, "How do you know she did as you are implying?"

"Ah," Six started, "She decided to waltz up to me and go on a miniature rant about how she wouldn't tolerate my behaviour…" Six paused for a short moment, "And I may have punched her."

"I… don't believe that was a necessary action to take against a child, however irritating they may become." Joshua replied rather serenely, completely ignoring the fact Six had assaulted an innocent (yet irritating and incoherently naggy) child.

"Taking action against a child…" Ulysses started, "Would be considered a major offence in this place, even more so than the Mojave."

"Anyway, more about the contract," Six switched the subject of conversation, "Meeting at a pretty big corporation, Schnee Dust Corp. if I recall correctly. Scoped out the place earlier, fucking massive factory we're meeting at."

"Why would a person of such power resort to placing themselves in a factory in such a prosperous world?" Joshua asked

"Not a clue, does seem pretty weird though." Six replied

"Being hunted?" Ulysses said

"Only reasonable explanation." Six said, hopping up and producing a large duffle bag from underneath his bed, "That's why I only said there would be two of you."

"Two of… _us?"_ Joshua said

"I said I would send two people to escort the convoy, but I didn't tell them where I would be." Six said

"Where?" Ulysses questioned

"Sniper support." Six produced a camouflaged sniper rifle from the duffle bag, the Gobi Campaign scout rifle, a silencer that mirrored the rifle's camouflage was screwed on to the end of the barrel, resulting in the rifle being silent as the night whenever it decided to spit out a bullet or take off some poor man's head.

Six continued, "The rooftops are all connected, I'll be able to manoeuvre quite well. I'll probably end up lying by the end of the street though, so I can get a better view of the street you're on."

"We can sneak outta here when night falls and be there by midnight, as long as we don't run into too much trouble in the forest." Six finished

"A sound plan," Ulysses said, "But we should be looking into munitions depots to restock our ammunition and acquire the appropriate tools to service our weapons."

"The school's got a whole damn armoury, we can use that for repairs. Ammo will be something to look into though." Six replied, Ulysses nodded, and Joshua Graham stood from his bed, brown medical bag in hand along with multiple wraps of bandages.

He slipped into the bathroom and silently clicked the door shut. He slid down the face of the door, eventually seating himself in front of it. He let out a long, heaved sigh, wind rushing from his lungs as a feeling of sudden pain overcame him.

At the moment, Joshua feared for his own health. His bandages hadn't been changed in an entire day and he feared the risk of infection. It always hurt when he replaced them. The wounds burnt with a pain that fire elicited from his body when he was set alight and tossed from the heights of the Grand Canyon, yet he went through with the process anyway. As he had told the Courier before, "it is better to be clean than comfortable".

His uncanny resistance to chems made this daily routine of his a temporary hell, unable to rid himself of the pain when he stripped the old bandages from his skin and replaced them with fresh counterparts. But perhaps his resistance to chems worked in his favour. It worked to strengthen him, strengthen his mind, and prevent any possible addiction. Though he was fortunate enough to find safe haven in stimpacks, probably the only reason he was still alive.

He diverted his mind as he replaced his bandages, instead showing an emotion he rarely ever showed. Envy.

He envied the fact that the people of this place had grown up in paradise. He was sure they each had their own personal issues to resolve, especially living in such an urban and civilised environment, but these people had it so much better than the people of the wastes did. A wastelander would give up anything for a fresh, warm meal and clean water, even if just for one day.

He almost hated them for being lucky enough to have such pure lives, having nothing to worry about, no regrets – if so, only minor regrets and moronic regrets – no pain, no violence.

But he was also lucky to have come across this place, to have met Courier Six and to have not been killed by the hands of the courier whom he expected to be killed by in Zion, only to have a different courier appear.

Yet he wasn't keen on adapting to such a civilised lifestyle, he had lived in a pit of hell for his entire life, eyes on the watch for Legion assassins each and every day, waiting for another to come and kill him, living with that constant fear of death - and hatred of those who had wronged him, Caesar.

He had found his place amongst the tribes of Zion, a place where he was welcome, a place where he banished Caesars influence, a place that he helped. Not this place, not civilisation.

* * *

Ulysses sat back reflecting on his life. His whole life he had one single purpose, to kill the courier that had awoken the sleeping giants, to kill the courier who had no recollection of ever creating the Divide.

He had led himself to believe that it was the Courier that had brought upon him the creation of the Divide, the destruction of Hopeville. Being the only unmutated survivor of the disaster at the Divide, Ulysses drove himself to believe in the impact a single person can have on history.

Yet even then the Courier had managed to twist his words in such a way that twisted Ulysses' mind.

Since then, he had walked the streets of the Divide with a tattered jacket and an Old World flag etched across his back. He remained there as punishment for the scars he left on the wastes, and a reminder of a history he could not forget.

But yet again the Courier returned, his words twisted the fellow courier's mind, and they set off to find a better hope for themselves, along with Joshua Graham, a man who had earned his life. They all walked away from the invisible fires of the Mojave, the crushing vice grip of the East and West, each shattered by a rain of nuclear fire the courier had set upon them both, perhaps as revenge or a punishment for being what Ulysses believed was a "flag carried by a tribe of children".

The Courier's action against the Bear and Bull had surprised Ulysses, the Courier showing himself to bear a hatred for both the Bear and the Bull.

After walking what he thought was his final road, Ulysses found himself walking another road alongside the Courier and Joshua Graham, a road to prosperity, but not a road to happiness. A road to a new land, abiding a promise that had sprouted from the destruction of the Bear and Bull.

Though he had an overriding feeling that none of them would find what they were looking for in this place. This place bore the mark of the Old World, a world before wars. But war would quickly find its place, and this place would be reduced to nothing more than a book and a sword.

* * *

Courier Six felt lost. He had found himself in a world where everything was perfect. The Grimm were hardly an issue, crime had not shown itself during the days he had been present, and everyone was perfect. Yet here he stood, a killer with a rifle in his hands, ready to shoot the next person he sees only to steal more ammo from that person just so he can kill more human beings.

He found himself in a world so pure and clean that everyone greeted each other as they skipped joyously down the streets. Not a world where guns were pointed at one another.

The only expense he found was the faunus, humans with animalistic traits, each subjected to racial abuse, often leading to physical abuse and even death at the hands of humans.

Yet no human would compare to himself, no human was a cold-blooded murderer who pulled his trigger just for the sake of shooting bullets – or even, at worse times, having _fun_. No human here would compare to the atrocities that Courier Six had committed.

His figure even imposed this. His hellish attire just spoke 'murderer' out to anyone who stared long enough. And anyone who stared long enough was sure to find a bullet in their brain, whether it be immediate or the next day. He was dressed to kill and that was all he did.

He had always been aware of his infamous nature, his desire to kill. But he just called it instinctive, called it survival. Only now had it become so painfully apparent to him, when he sat himself down on the cold concrete rooftop of a school of children fighting against the forces of pure evil to protect whatever lives they had, whatever lives they had lost. When he was surrounded by good-hearted people, each rivalling the things he had done, even though none of them knew of it, he finally realised what he had become.

He killed General Lee Oliver, killed Caesar, murdered Mister House, took over the Mojave and New Vegas, and he rained nuclear fire down upon the NCR and the legion.

Whatever hellish apparition had twisted him into such a ruthless monster, he almost wanted to thank it. He wanted to thank whatever had done this to him because it helped him realise the true nature of the world and why he existed.

He looked down to his crossed legs as he sat on the roof of beacon Academy, his body enveloped by the setting sun's rays. He gripped his rifle firmly in his hands and heaved his chest in and out, passing air through his lungs. He felt as if he would break the rifle and cursed himself for what he had allowed the Mojave to do to him.

Whatever humanity he had left would surely be lost here, whether or not he would throw it away or if this place would wrench it from him was still unclear, but he knew it would part from him some way or another.

He stood to his feet and set himself upon the edge of the rooftop.

He heard footsteps behind him, light footsteps, and he spun to face the source.


	10. Chapter 10 - Defunct Moral Compass

**Updates may get a little sporadic, becoming pretty preoccupied with other things. Sorry about the longer wait. I've just been really out of it the past few weeks or so, can't seem to write all that well.**

* * *

**Chapter 10:**

The camouflaged barrel of the Gobi Campaign Scout Rifle glared at Six's unseen disruption with baring teeth, just ready to spit out a bullet and turn whomever it was aimed at into a pile of lifeless flesh on the floor.

"Stand. Still." The Courier hissed, "Who is it?" He was still on edge ever since he reflected on how the wasteland had degraded him. His rifle veered to the right slightly before throwing out a silenced bullet, the projectile digging a small hole in the shadowed wall beside where the imposter stood. He could see a shadowed female form jerk about in the darkness quickly before settling down, hoping to remain unseen.

He growled. The shadow stepped into the moonlight.

The girl in black – Blake Belladonna. The Courier wondered what she thought of him.

The people of the wastes called him a messiah, the 'Hero of Vegas'. He ran around doing chores for people, but that didn't make him good by any means that he found important. A title was just a title, never gave any true insight for an outsider looking in. But for someone who didn't know his title, hadn't even heard the stories…

This person barely knew him, and that jogged his mind, made him think.

"Why are you here?" The Courier pressed, holding his gun rigid and ready.

"Why are you here?" The girl had retorted, mimicking his question exactly

"Answer my question dammit!" His finger tensed on the trigger yet ceased to pull it back, despite his mind whispering murderous thoughts to his conscience.

"Put your gun down first." Blake calmly replied as she edged forward ever so slightly

"Who are you, hmm…? Yeah…" A small, muffled chuckle escaped his helmet-enclosed lips, "You're one of them, aren't you?" The Courier began walking circles around Blake.

"Yeah… The outfit says it all. Little red's getup… No, wait." He halted mid-rotation. His silence remained eerily long, an unnerving air settling about the wasteland legend.

"No…" He chuckled, "Who sent you?" He shook his head as if trying to dislodge something from it.

"I wasn't sent." She replied, keeping her gaze closed in on the Courier.

The Courier let his finger slip from the trigger for a moment before quickly tensing it back on the trigger of the scout rifle. He held the rifle aimed dead-centre of the girl's head.

He threw a hand against his helmet in an attempt to clear his mind, only managing to elicit a low growl from himself. Something about this place messed with his mind. For some reason, all the death he had caused seem to play with his mind. Perhaps it was just the overly-peaceful setting, maybe the lack of death. Whatever it was, he felt as if he were addicted to the death the wasteland had constantly supplied him with.

He felt his body turn numb and his legs buckle, only just managing to catch his strength before completely losing his balance. He stumbled to the side for a moment before finding his gun trailed on the girl again.

He let out a sputtering cough and shook his head.

'_What the hell is wrong with me?'_ The Courier thought to himself

"Are you okay?" Blake asked, showing only a slight hint of concern in her voice

"The fuck do you care!?" he retorted, still attempting to regain his mindset. He managed to gain control again, finally lowering the rifle and letting it hang limply in his hand down by his side. He ended up shuffling slowly to the edge of the rooftop, his whole body quaking with the fear of himself.

"God dammit." He muttered to himself. What the hell was he doing? What was wrong with him? What happened to the survivor inside him that had brought him all this way?

'_Go on. DO IT.' _His conscience commanded, prompting Six to readjust the rifle's scope and aim it towards Blake, yet the girl remained calm and steady as anything, still refusing to speak any more words.

'_Satisfy your hunger, Courier.'_ Six swore he could see his own conscience take a human form behind the girl who opposed him.

"Go away…" The Courier muttered, more hissed to what he saw. The aggravated hisses were only barely audible to Blake.

'_Why?'_

"Just fuck off." The Courier growled

'_Ah, but think of the possibilities, Six. What happens when you pull that trigger? Does she die? Probably not. You read the books, you would know. Would you be ridiculed, driven from this place? That is most likely so.'_

"I don't need you telling me what to do."

'_I am not telling you __**what**__ to do, merely guiding you through the process of __**deciding**__ what to do… So, pull that trigger and you leave. Don't pull that trigger, perhaps you could redeem yourself, no?'_

"I told you to leave."

'_And just __**why**__ exactly would I leave? Go on, do what you have done your entire life.'_

The Courier stood motionless, gun still aimed at the girl ahead of him.

'_What about the NCR? They were craving, demanding the attention and biased support of their public, even though their citizens lived a life of pain and cruelty. You put a bullet in the Bear's head. You saw what you wanted to see in them, when in reality, they were doing their best to scrape by and rid the world of Caesar and his dreaded Legion of slavers.'_

"I will never regret my decisions." The Courier growled

'_And you don't need to regret your decisions, just need to see what you see for it to be okay. It's like when you found that a gun the desert. There are an infinite amount of ways that gun could've gotten to that desert, yet you choose to favour one over the other when there are so many reasons as to why that gun may have found itself in that desert. You thought an ant had regurgitated the damned gun because that was the first thing that crossed your mind.'_

"This has _nothing_ to do with the situation at hand." The Courier began to grow angry at the voice

'_And I don't care about the situation at hand. I am proving a point… You didn't see what was, you saw what you wanted to see.'_

"_Fuck You."_

'_So go ahead and take your contract. Do what comes natural. Kill this girl, or leave her to bleed.'_

And so he shot. No consideration, no doubt. He just shot her, plain in the stomach, and left her to drown in a puddle of her own blood, just as he had done with so many others, all subconsciously. This one wasn't any different, just driven by the lack of death in the Courier's recent life.

Slowly, he drifted off, back down the stairs from which he had ascended to the rooftops from, his head starting to ache and his thoughts muddling.

The confusion was almost too much as his vision blurred and his mind began to muddle its commands to his body, commanding left when right should have been sent, often sending him into multiple walls. With much falter, he eventually stumbled his way back to his dorm, jostling with the door handle and battling the door for entrance.

Once he made it inside, there was no other noise to be heard and he knelt with his hands clasped around his helmet, tearing the headwear off violently and desperately clutching his head. He quickly browsed through his Pip Boy inventory for something, anything to calm his body and ease his mind. He stuck the first needle he found into his arm and almost immediately felt a surge in his veins, his mind calming down to its normal state.

He let the syringe fall lazily to the floor beside him and he rested his arms by his side as he rested his body against one of the empty walls. He breathed strongly, trying to catch as much air as he could. His eyes shut and he finally rested, feeling a sudden warmth rush over his body as the fog continued clearing in his mind, his memories rearranging themselves back into order.

Steadily, he got to his feet, using several objects around him as support and eventually sliding his helmet back on. He still had an initiation ceremony to attend. He had ten minutes.

The Courier took a moment to regain his head and gain a steady balance. He turned his head up. He wasn't followed. Just a shifted air hanging about the open doorway. The Courier sighed, shaking himself off and making an unnerved trek towards Beacon's main hall.

* * *

"Courier." Ulysses acknowledged the Courier's presence as he joined up with Ulysses and Joshua Graham in the main hall, just off to the side of the stage.

"I… yeah." Six shook himself off, taking a position with his comrades.

"Are you okay?" Joshua Graham asked, noting the Courier's unnerved actions.

"I'm… fine. Initiation ceremony, right?" The Courier replied, attempting to dismiss Joshua's suspicions.

"Are you certain? You seem-"

"I'm fine," Six cut Joshua off before he could say any more, "Let's just get this crap over with."

A round of applause summoned itself from the crowd seated in the auditorium as Ozpin concluded a short speech on stage. The Wastelanders joined the headmaster on stage as the man began to speak once more.

Six couldn't help but feel unnerved by the stares of the multiple Beacon students that were currently seated ahead of the stage, each glaring at the trio with either curiosity or hurtful intent, as if they didn't want the newcomers here.

"Courier Six, Joshua Graham, and Ulysses. I'm afraid we currently have no designation for this group, so I have decided to compose Beacon's second official Overwatch Group." Another round of applause sounded from the crowd, yet they did not peel their icy stares from the three as they and Ozpin exited the stage. Joshua stayed back to converse with Ozpin once Six had managed to nab one of his spare pistols. Joshua hadn't bothered to question the Courier as to why he needed a gun, or where Ulysses was disappearing too.

"Overwatch Group?" Joshua asked the headmaster as he took a sip from his trademarked coffee mug.

"Mmm," Ozpin started, "Simply watching over lessons, mostly combat routines that you will be watching over."

"I can understand as to why you have designated us as a separate group from your students, yet I am still confused as to why you accepted us so easily." Joshua said, questioning Ozpin's decision to simply let three random people into his school. A hint of a smile crossed Ozpin's face.

"You seemed like you needed help, the condition your clothing and yourselves were in. But I have noticed that your appearance has not changed since you arrived."

"Yes," Joshua started, "I was beginning to wonder when we would cross this topic. I presume you have questions?"

"Many." The headmaster responded simply

"Then I suppose I should answer them, then. But forgive me for sparing the acute details; I am already slightly uncomfortable discussing my life with a man I barely know."

* * *

**Once again, so sorry about the length of this chapter and the delays it went through, just had a hard time writing for a couple weeks. As I mentioned before, updates may become weekly (hopefully not longer than that though, no promises.)**

**Had some trouble wrapping my head around Six's part, but I guess I got there in the end.**

**Don't forget to review and leave your thoughts and potential improvements (Fuel to the fire!)**


	11. Chapter 11 - Impossible To Change

**Chapter 11: Impossible To Change**

Six was almost disappointed about the lack of blood staining the concrete rooftop where he had faced Blake only mere minutes ago. The girl was nowhere to be seen, his bullet casing wasn't even there, nor his bullet. He could've sworn he saw her bleeding and cursed himself for not finishing her life there and then. He didn't even feel some sort of subtle content that he hadn't murdered yet another person, only a painful withdrawal from the soothing arms of cold-blooded murder – or 'survival' as he deemed it.

The Courier grumbled and slipped the 45. Pistol into his jacket, deciding it be best to consult his comrades concerning their upcoming contracting work for the night. They would have to leave soon if they wanted to be punctual and get some time to set up and further scout the route. That is, of course, if their employers would actually _tell their guard escort_ _the route they were taking_. It would certainly make the job easier.

Six soon found himself stood in the centre of the dorm, simply staring ahead, out the window and into the void of night. He couldn't seem to remember what he had been doing before he found himself staring out the window, but soon dismissed any worry for the occasional memory blank that he seemed to get every now and then. He strolled over to where he had seated himself to dull his confusion around thirty minutes ago; scooping up the empty syringe that he had lazily left lying about on the floor.

_Med-X_

Six remained partly confused as to why he had felt so calm after injecting the chem into his body, but he simply shrugged it off and accepted it, grateful that it had been such a help to him in more than just the recent situation he found himself in previously.

The Courier fiddled about with the various metal plates on his coat before turning his mind to other things. He wondered what Joshua was doing and, more importantly, what Ulysses was getting himself into.

He swept his mind of any odd feelings about the girl he had shot, resting his mind and body on the closest bed he could find, though he still felt slightly frustrated.

"I had been the leader of a tribe named the Dead Horses, assisting them in any way I could; offering weapons training and helping defend them against the various factions that threatened them." Joshua explained as the headmaster took yet another sip from his trademark mug.

"So you have experience with assembling weaponry?" Ozpin asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I know my way about most weapons and I would take every free moment to inspect a weapon I do not know." Joshua replied, "The tradition where I grew up revolved around one weapon."

"Where you grew up?" Ozpin questioned, sipping from his mug again. Joshua simply shook his head in dismissal of the headmaster's question and continued along his own path of discussion.

"When my time with the Dead Horses was over, I joined the Courier on his trip to this place." He said, gesturing to the area about him with a single hand.

"He already knew about Remnant?" Ozpin asked, this time readjusting his glasses instead of taking another sip from his mug.

"Simply rumours," Joshua replied, "We couldn't be sure."

"And you decided to venture… however far you went, simply based on rumours?" Ozpin said, "Forgive me, but that doesn't sound like a very smart decision."

"The promise of safe haven is something people would give anything for where we come from." Joshua said, "Though I can't help but feel unwelcome here."

"You are welcome to stay if you please, there is nobody stopping you from doing so."

"I understand that you are allowing us to remain, although why you are so generous in your offer seems perplexed to me. It is not your acceptance I feel refuted against, it is my own acceptance." Joshua sighed, folding his arms.

"And why would that be?" Ozpin took another sip from his mug, still fully endorsed in the conversation.

"I have done many bad things in my life. It seemed so simple to find acceptance in God, I still don't feel that here though." Joshua said, now hanging his arms by his sides.

"What things would be so bad to lead you to feeling unaccepted in this society?"

"A conversation for another time, Ozpin." Joshua departed, leaving Ozpin to question himself about the Burned Man's past.

Ulysses stood in Beacon's courtyard, simply standing and watching one of the many lit windows as a group of girls bickered behind the glass window, seemingly panicking about something Ulysses couldn't pick out.

The Courier had once told him he had the eyes of an Eagle, and, though he wasn't inclined to agree with the Courier as it seemed like he was boasting and didn't really fit his personality, Ulysses knew what he was and wasn't limited to. He had watched the Courier every step of his journey through the cracked passageways of the Divide, spying his every movement.

He questioned what the group of girls were so agitated about, deciding that it was most likely the Courier's doing. Ulysses hadn't failed to notice that the Courier had been shaken up near the start of the initiation ceremony, though he didn't really expect it to involve anybody else.

Much like Joshua, Ulysses was having problems adjusting to the civilised life these people were living and his mind theorised that Six's unnerved attitude was probably due to the same issue. He didn't want to believe that though.

The Courier had shown the most confidence adapting to this new world, easily being the most energetic and forthcoming character of the three, and although he lacked the mind-bending words that Ulysses could conjure up at any given moment, the Courier definitely seemed the least bothered and more social of his comrades.

Ulysses tilted his head before shifting himself back to the dorm.

* * *

"Are you certain you're stable?"

"Listen, I shoot people every day. I felt a withdrawal, alright?"

Six stood speaking with Joshua Graham in their dorm, Six eventually bringing up the small 'incident' he had had earlier in the night.

"This _will_ cause issues with the school. You are aware of this?"

"Of course I'm aware! We can figure this out, alright?"

"And if we can't?"

"Then I suppose I'll just leave then."

"…"

"…"

"Where is she now?"

"No fuckin' idea. She was gone when I came back to the rooftop."

"This will certainly cause a great deal of commotion with her teammates."

"Yeah"

"They were protective over each other, it seemed. You may become hunted, so it would be best to stay out of sight."

"Hey, it can't be _that_ bad. I'm sure we can work something out with them."

"They don't understand our past, they don't understand us."

"And they don't need to."

A click sounded and Ulysses entered the room, silently striding over to the nearest bed and resting his anti-material rifle on it. Six handed Joshua's spare pistol back.

"We can make it work." He said before turning to address Ulysses, "You ready?"

"Almost."

"Alright, we should leave in a couple minutes. We'll wait outside by the transport." Six and Joshua slipped quietly out the dorm, soon entering the cover of night and assembling about the private transport the girl told Six she would arrange to meet them. Ulysses soon joined the two and they all embarked on a journey to Vale, each carrying their arsenal of weaponry.

Six commented on how weird it felt to be in the air, stating he had never flow before, an experience they each lacked equally. Against what he had expected, Six didn't seem to feel any sort of sickness on the flight to Vale, just an odd feeling in his gut.

* * *

The aircraft soon touched down in a secluded area around centre Vale, the pilot directing them towards the factory and informing them it would be a fifteen minute walk – of which they embarked on without complaint, already used to much longer journeys; especially the Courier.

Once they spied the factory, Six broke off to find a way to the rooftops, leaving Joshua Graham and Ulysses to find their way into the factory. An entrance was found easily enough – a small side door where two guards were stationed.

"Halt!" One of the guards commanded, "State your business!"

"Guard detail." Ulysses answered. The guard who spoke looked over to his friend, flinging his head in the Wastelanders' direction.

"Follow me," the second guard gestured for Joshua and Ulysses to follow as he stepped through the door, revealing a dormant factory interior that seemed to be scrubbed and polished to almighty hell, presenting the factory with the looks of a luxury office building. No workers were to be seen, though Ulysses and Joshua each managed to pick out the glimmer of metal chains on the floors by each production line just before the door swung closed.

The guard shouted, "Lights!" illuminating the room and revealing several more armed men, each bearing similar outfits to the guard whom the Wastelanders were currently following. One of the armed men started strolling casually towards them and dismissed the guard, giving him a solid pat on the back as he walked away.

Each of the men wore outfits that seemed to resemble some sort of riot-crowd control armour, outfitted with heavy padding and coloured a painful white with similarly coloured full-mask helmets hanging off their waists, each with a vertical rectangular visor that stood out as the only black piece of their outfits. They each carried a rifle and pistol, all of the weaponry looking more sleek and fancy than advanced.

"You're the guard escort?" The man questioned, looking the two over as if they were completely foreign entities (which they were).

"Correct." Joshua replied

"Well," the man shrugged his shoulders, "They told me to look for the odd ones." He began striding back to his position near an armoured vehicle positioned in front of a large steel door.

"Sergeant Tallis. Me and my squad will be providing additional support." He gestured to the four other men currently conversing outside of their audible range, though their conversation didn't seem to be light hearted or happy in the slightest, each man with a stern expression on their faces and their lips solidified in a straight line when they ceased speaking.

"Good to know." Joshua said, looking each of the men over from a distance and deciding they seemed as if they had seen their fair share of battle.

"Alright, convoy starts in twenty minutes. Oh, and, before you ask, we don't know the route. Mr Schnee was real stern with the route, so if you brought any sniper support you'd best hope they know their way around this damned city." A small smirk crossed the Sergeant's face as he turned to face his squad, chuckling slightly.

* * *

Six managed to find his way to the rooftops, eventually having to resort to scaling the most climbable building when he failed to find any ladders or stairwells leading to the rooftops. As he had previously discovered, the rooftops were all conjoined and seemed easy enough to manoeuvre about, only a small drop or low ledge to get around between each rooftop. Majority of the rooftops had a flat surface, only the odd one or two in Six's sight having slanted roofs, classifying them as an unsuitable sniping position, though they would still serve as viable positions if things got _really bad._

The main problem with their setup was that he lacked any form of communication between himself and the convoy, which would prove to be a problem seeing as Six couldn't provide any spotting information. He felt confident enough that he would be able to drop any concerning targets before they became a threat to the convoy.

He checked his ammo clip and his reserves. 38 rounds in total.

He gripped the Gobi Campaign scout rifle firmly in his gloved hands and marched across the rooftops, setting himself up on a rooftop adjacent to what he presumed was the exit to the factory, a large steel door that connected to the road and seemed to be where delivery trucks would make their drop-offs.

The road shot forward in an almost worryingly straight line, the concrete bearing only a few visible imperfections, the odd crack in the concrete every now and again – surprisingly well maintained, miniature imperfections aside.

The Courier looked down his scope and frowned, seeing his aim sway back and forth slightly. A bipod would have made this so much easier. He let out a sigh and waited for the time to pass.


	12. Chapter 12 - Taste Of Battle

**Review Responses:**

**SilverstormXD: **We edge nearer and nearer to beginning my conquest for world domination…  
Not really sure what else to say… guess I'll just leave it at that… You heard nothing about plans for world domination. Nope. None at all.

* * *

**Chapter 12: ****Taste Of Battle**

Several slender figures pranced about in the shadowy depths of numerous alleyways that sprouted from the main road, each serving as a miniature garbage dump for the people of Vale. The silhouetted figures moved fast, only providing a shimmer in the darkness to distort and reveal their position. Whoever they were, they were fast, but not the best. The cover of night ensnared their figures as they manoeuvred with impressive levels of agility about the rooftops and alleyways.

Six simply rested his scope on one of the many shadowy figures; this one perched on a rooftop. A pair of bull horns sprouted from his head, a mask covering his eyes and a sword by his side. His attention was pinpointed on the now-moving SDC convoy that slowly rolled along the road, Joshua Graham and Ulysses accompanying a large armoured vehicle that cruised along on a mass of sixteen rubber wheels. A group of five armed men were the only unfamiliar faces present in the convoy.

Six's scope lay still on the man whom remained perched atop the roof, still gazing down on the convoy with an acute and fixated gaze, examining the two odd figures that stood out from the rest of the convoy. The Courier saw no tell-tale insignia, but the bull horns that sprouted from his head told the Courier that the man was not human, but of faunus origin. Whoever this guy was, his outfit seemed to differ from the multitude of others whom had now joined him on the rooftop, still obscured by whatever darkness was offered in the dull moonlight.

The others, an even distribution between males and females, as Six presumed by their… bodily features and shapes, all bore a mirroring symbol, a wolf head with three red claw marks striking through the centre - the White Fang symbol, if Six could remember correctly from his and his companions' research opportunities.

The group began to split, each traversing the rooftops, left and right of their previous position. In time, groups of three were evenly spread across multiple rooftops around the centre of the overly-extensive street. They waited for the convoy to near.

Six set his eyes down his scope once more. The man was still there, still watching with a murderous intent in his posture. He seemed professional, not some amateur. His mask and outfit differed greatly from the others, giving Six the impression that this man was some sort of leader or higher up of some sorts. The Courier would shoot this man first.

His finger tensed on the trigger of his silenced rifle as he awaited the appropriate opportunity. Then again, he could just fell the man now and move on to his colleagues. It was a sound idea.

* * *

"Would it pain us to go any faster?" Joshua questioned, concerned about the painfully slow speeds the vehicle and its escort were travelling at.

"We gotta stay cautious," Tallis informed, "Never know what to expect. SDC's got a lotta enemies."

Ulysses nudged Joshua, the Burned Man soon becoming aware of the distinct shuffles and movement about the rooftops.

"Should the movement on the rooftops concern us?" Joshua asked, turning to Sergeant Tallis

"Not yet," Tallis replied, "Wait for them to move first. We got limited ammo and want them close before we put 'em down."

Joshua nodded and waited for their unseen adversaries to make their move, as Tallis had suggested.

Their move came soon enough, a barely audible silenced bullet ringing out through the street and dropping one of the many silhouetted figures that stood across the rooftops. Each of the figures took this as a signal to attack, near twenty dropping from the rooftops and immediately charging the convoy with curved blades.

They each wore hooded mask and bore a familiar symbol – the White Fang insignia.

The Survivalist's rifle threw many bullets towards Joshua's advancing enemies, three bullets per person before he switched his deadly gaze to the next advancing oppressor. The first bullet seemed to just ping off, the second dazed, and the third put them to rest. He switched out the ammo clip for a fresh one and continued dropping his attackers one by one.

* * *

Ulysses held his 12.7mm firmly in his hands, the SMG proving to be as effective here as it was back in the Divide. The weapon still remained loyal to him, wiping his enemies from his peripheral vision just as soon as they had appeared in it. He had used Old Glory once, caving a woman's head in with two firm strikes. The sight was gruesome, to say the least, yet he paid no immediate attention to it, instead focusing on those who were charging him – the undisciplined fools they were.

If this was their way of fighting for freedom, Ulysses was surprised they had even had a minor impact aside from acting as sponges to soak up ammunition and forcing the kingdoms to invest in more munitions manufacturing.

* * *

A silenced bullet spewed from the Gobi's barrel, impacting the man directly in the head. He dropped – for about ten seconds. The man soon began to stand again, slightly dazed but still maintaining his footing as he tried to regain his surroundings.

'_I need an upgrade'_ was all that Six thought before moving on to spy his next target.

The White Fang operatives had each descended to the street, resulting in a full on battle between the convoy's escorts and the White Fang, the latter having a distinctly harder time. They were shown to be less experienced and less skilled than the convoy's guard, each dropping quickly to a multitude of bullets and failing to even land as much as a finger on any of the escort. The vehicle sped up, now moving at a measly ten miles per hour, upping the five it had previously been rolling along at. The escort sped up to a fast-paced jog to keep up with the vehicle and more White Fang spewed out from the alleyways.

The sudden disappearance of the man whom he had failed to kill was only a minor disturbance, Six focusing on taking out as many of the grunts that had charged the convoy from the alleys, focusing on the few who adopted ranged attacks and managing to drop several of them with two bullets each, managing to either incapacitate or kill them – Six didn't concern troubling himself with which of the two had occurred. One for the aura, one for the bone. His gun clicked empty and he holstered the Gobi on his back, producing his Plasma Rifle.

With no ammo in his long-ranged weapon, Six decided it best to descend to the street and assist his comrades in the war that currently waged on below. By now, half the city was sure to have been awoken by the gunfire. Come to think of it, those combat schools may have been alerted about gunfire…

Dismissing the thought, Six vaporised some poor fool who sprouted from an alleyway unexpectedly, the Plasma Rifle liquefying the poor woman and reducing her to a lowly pile of green goo. One hit kill.

Another figure was liquefied at the will of the Courier's Plasma Rifle. He simply stood and watched as the green ooze bubbled and boiled, sizzling and hissing as it began to settle into a small puddle that illuminated the area about it. The Courier smiled.

This was going to be a good night.

* * *

Joshua snarled at one of the many now lifeless White Fang corpses that lay splayed across the bloodied concrete. Off to his side, one of the masses was missing his head and one poor woman was disfigured to horrific extents, her skull having been caved in during the battle. Several piles of green goo were distinctly visible amongst the flood of red, white, and black, courtesy of the Courier whom had quickly descended from his post due to a lack of ammunition.

Amongst the bodies lay one of the soldiers under Sergeant Tallis' command, now lifeless and motionless. An extra number to the body count.

Tallis paid no respects to the man, nor did his comrades.

When the Courier joined, a slight altercation arose between the Sergeant and the Courier, but that was soon resolved when Joshua stepped in as the voice of reason, explaining that Six was a friendly. The Sergeant didn't seem too worried, seeing some familiarity in the trio's outfits. He asked no questions about their clearly inferior weaponry – aside from the Plasma Rifle – surprising Six to some extent and even raising some questions as to why the Sergeant hadn't even bothered to acknowledge the weapon, it being clearly superior to his military's own.

Six had questioned as to why they simply left the bodies strewn about. He thought it would surely result in some sort of public or faunus uprising to see dozens of men and women slaughtered in the street.

Sergeant Tallis simply dismissed this, saying they were criminals and that it wasn't their job to clear the bodies off the street, just defend the vehicle.

The rest of the convoy moved ahead swiftly at a brisk pace, the occasional small sounds putting the Wastelanders on their highest guard – save Ulysses, the man having farther more acute senses and experience. Each sound was dismissed as a false alarm, nothing serving to interrupt the convoy as it rolled along smoothly.

* * *

They soon arrived at their destination, some sort of makeshift private airport in one of the quieter sides of town. Well, more than quiet, absolutely deserted, not a soul to be seen for the next mile. The occasional wildlife sprouted up every now and then as the convoy had moved through. The Wastelanders paid no attention to the odd rat or stray dog, even though such a sight was extremely rare in the wasteland, majority of the animal population having been exposed to overly amounts of radioactive material after the bombs dropped, resulting in a great deal of heavily mutated – and hostile – wildlife.

The group simply dwindled for the next few passing minutes that seemed to lumber by as slow as they could before finally passing with the opening of a door in the armoured vehicle's side, a man wearing a classy suit emerging with a pair of large, metal suitcases in his bare hands and hanging down by his side. The suitcases seemed heavy as the man seemed slightly strained as he dropped them down on the concrete road beneath them. He disappeared back into the vehicle, soon emerging with another pair of large, metal suitcases, setting them down next to the other two, filling the gap between them. He repeated this process until there were seven suitcases lined up in single file on the concrete road.

"Mr Schnee would like to thank you for your assistance," The man said, "Your payment, one each," he gestured to the metal suitcases, "Five-hundred thousand each, just as promised… Now, if you would please vacate the premises, Mr Schnee would rather be safe than sorry."

Each of the group did as instructed, the Wastelanders taking their pay and heading on their way whilst Sergeant Tallis and his remaining three comrades took their pay and ventured off in the opposite direction from which the convoy had travelled.

"Why were there only seven cases?" Joshua asked, though he expected the answer he would receive from Six. He simply wanted to clarify with his partners.

"I said there would be two of us there. One of those five died earlier on. Seven in total." Six replied, as Joshua had expected, "I suppose they never tried to identify us, let alone memorise our attire."

"We should get back." Joshua said, Six agreeing.

"You think any planes run this late?" Six asked

"I should hope so." Joshua finished as they trekked down the road, back the way they had arrived, in search of an airport – or some kind of aerial transport service – in hopes that they could return to Beacon immediately.


	13. Chapter 13 - Superiority

**You: **Hey, look! Douchebag McGee finally decided to get off his ass and write another chapter. Boy, his butt must be sore from sitting down for nearly two consecutive months!

**But I'm sure you're not here to complain (its fine if you are), so let's just get back into it.**

* * *

**Chapter 13: Superiority**

During the journey back to Beacon, Six had found himself fiddling with Benny's lighter. He tossed it about every now and then, often igniting a flame with the spark wheel when he desired a little change in the environment. He examined the intricate details carved into the lighter, each twist and turn making the simple piece of metal look as if it were worth ten times its actual value. It was clearly a pre-war piece, but it seemed to fit quite well in the Courier's current surroundings, blending rather well with the odd look of the buildings.

Six, much to Jessup's disappointment, couldn't find the time to shove the lighter up Benny's ass, but he was glad enough to have killed the bastard that shot him in the head. In fact, he killed the son of a bitch the exact same way he had tried to kill the Courier - tied up with a little sympathetic talk, and then a bullet to the head. It was quite odd how the circumstances returned those many months later, only to side with him instead of Benny. He even got the Platinum Chip back.

As they say, karma's a bitch.

The lighter gave him ideas for some fancy weapon designs, and the Courier was sure he would be able to find the time to make said designs reality with all this free time he seemed to have on his hands. He felt it was good for a man to have something fancy to look at whilst he bludgeoned a poor animal or, more commonly, some poor human soul that had managed to find its way into his scope. He wouldn't have any trouble admitting that he couldn't care less for the appearance of his weaponry, but after taking a tenuous examination of some of the Beacon students' weapons, he felt he was being put to shame.

Fancy shit.

Then again, he had never actually seen those kids actually _use _their weapons, so he wasn't quite sure if they were effective killing tools or just there for looks. They didn't seem disciplined or focused enough to be good fighters, so Six wasn't expecting much.

Six had definitely felt a great rush of relief and, perhaps, joy when he shot down his first White Fang grunt. He found himself unable to go about without something to kill for a few hours; it seemed to drive him to the brink of insanity, if he remembered back correctly to the previous day or two – whenever it was.

On the lines of killing, Six had realised that his weaponry had become inferior since he arrived, this 'aura' stuff absorbing a good amount of force and bullets, always requiring another shot to drop a single person. An extreme waste of ammunition, thus an upgrade was required. It was almost painful to see ammo wasted, Six having a rather short supply of the stuff. It was only a few days before he ran out of Microfusion Cells for his Plasma rifle, providing he would kill a minimum of one animal (or person) each day.

Six shook his head free of the thought of murdering innocents, though he had never considered it murder in the Wasteland (because it wasn't). He was here to start a new life, but he still doubted his ability to do so.

He also doubted his comrade's ability to do so, among his own. He knew that Joshua Graham would have troubles settling into an urban environment, the man told the Courier that himself, and Ulysses would most probably share a similar predicament. For all Six knew, they might have to take a hike back to the Wasteland, where they belonged.

Six slid the lighter back into his duster's pocket, setting about adding a couple new factions to his Pip boy's interface. It was always good to keep track of where you were and weren't accepted since getting shot wasn't always too fun. He added the _White Fang, Beacon, Vale, Atlas, Vacuo, _and_ Mistral _factions,pulling the kingdom names from a couple books he had read. Each faction stood at **Neutral **for the time, the Pip boy would need some time to do that karma thing it liked to do. The Courier was unsure of where he would be without that thing.

He slipped the Mysterious Magnum form its holster, the gun he hadn't once used since his and his companions' arrival in this seemingly detached world. Then again, he never had any reason to use it, his other weapons proved effective enough for the time being. The same could be said for Chance's Knife, the Courier never having the opportune moment to unsheathe his proclaimed blade. Besides, that knife would hardly have any effect on the aura these people all seemed to possess.

The revolver glinted in the small slips of sunlight that broke through the aircraft's tinted windows, showcasing the gun's unique framework and intricately carved patterns, coated with a fine silver finish. An odd factor about the gun was the seemingly impervious characteristic it seemed to adopt whenever it came to dirt, the magnum simply refusing to be stained by any of the natural Mojave filth that would flutter about the arid wasteland each day.

His boot hit heavy against the concrete and his legs ached from countless minutes of solidifying himself in a single position for the past twenty minutes or so. He stretched his limbs, clicking his bones and feeling a small rush of relief overcome his body as the stiffness and pain subsided.

The Courier checked his weapons, ensuring each was still securely in place on his body whilst awaiting the emergence of his comrades from the aircraft of which he had just disembarked on earlier in the sunrise.

The sun cascaded upon the large frame of Beacon Academy, the magnificent morning light casting a fantastic beauty about the building for all to behold. Six idly shrugged his shoulders as he stared up at the building's centrepiece, a tall tower that seemed it would stretch into the clouds, resting a hand on his sidearm.

He took a moment to take in the sights before his comrades joined him by his side.

Joshua took on an impatient stance, his fingers dancing about A Light Shining in Darkness whilst he stood idly, simply begging to be put into use.

Ulysses remained stoic and calm as always.

Six took the first step forward, his steel boots echoing against the loose concrete stones whilst his step remained heavy and powerful. His companions followed along soundlessly, their shoes daring not to make a single sound as they silently crossed the campus.

Shouting was heard in the distance, some sort of one-sided struggle, somebody making a poor attempt to restrain somebody. The shouts continued for a while as the Wastelanders kept their walk steady, advancing forth towards Beacon's main hall, completely disregarding the background noises. The shouts still remained faint and, though he may have disregarded them, Six still heard them clear as day.

As they trudged forward, the distant struggle became more apparent, as if it were nearing them. As the sounds became clearer, Ulysses recognised the voices, though refrained from speaking knowing that it wouldn't much change the outcome of whatever event was about to occur.

Six marched on ahead, hand on the Mysterious Magnum, ready to draw, intent on discovering what the distant bickering was about. His fingers waggled impatiently as his legs continued the stride. He could see figures now, figures about the main hall's great doorways, seemingly fighting with a sort of angered intent.

The Courier's eyes narrowed, honing in on the agitated group as they drew ever closer. He could barely make out a few familiar figures, though he hadn't bothered to commit anything else to his mind aside from their names… if he could fish them out from whatever hole they had been dwelling in.

He shifted his head to face the Burned Man, no opinion showing on his figure. The same lack of care was also expressed by Ulysses, so Six simply redirected his view to the scuffle ahead. Drawing nearer, Six's mind ticked and he was fairly confident he knew all four figures. Well, he definitely remembered one with much greater detail than the others, after all, he had shot her. You don't just forget someone you shoot, mental episode or not.

Two of the recognisable figures marched on ahead, one with murderous intent, the other with… some other (presumable negative) intent. One figure, the smallest, Ruby if he remembered correctly, was making a mediocre attempt at restraining the more angered one. The last trailed slowly behind. Now that Six had joined his previously divided attention to focus on the four advancing figures, it was fairly easy to notice that the lead of the four girls had a rather distinct feature about her, that feature being her rather… bright hair. In fact, it seemed to resemble something of a shattered lightbulb (and nothing more as a result of the Courier's limited imagination).

A click sounded from his rear and his head twisted to see Joshua Graham with The Survivalists' Rifle readied in his hands. His gaze shifted to Ulysses, casually holding Old Glory by his side. The Courier allowed his eyes to drift back to the four advancing girls, now a mere twenty feet away. The Courier unslung the Plasma Rifle in preparation for something… less than pleasant.

"Yang! Wait! Please!" The little girl in red was screaming, yet her elder sister didn't seem to take notice. Her eyes burned with a fierce hatred as she marched forth, body locked in a vicious fire toward the Courier.

'_Oh,' _a thought ticked in the Courier's mind,_ 'This is about that one time I shot someone, isn't it?'_

The Courier just shrugged at his own thoughts, unholstered his sidearm, and shot.

* * *

"I'm sure you understand why I can't have you shooting my students at your free will."

A few short moments after the miniature morning shootout, the Wastelanders had found themselves locked in a conversation with Ozpin in his office. The Courier tapped his foot impatiently as he and his comrades conversed with the headmaster.

"And I'm sure you understand we have a very _different _background." The Courier retaliated, clenching his fist over his chair's armrest.

"I'm sure you acted this way for a reason and, whilst I may not understand your background, I cannot have the death of any students on my hands." The headmaster replied calmly as Goodwitch took over the conversation at his side.

"Behaviour like this is intolerable on school grounds. If anything, I should have you arrested for attempted murder." A scowl crossed the stern woman's face as she let out her frustration towards the Wastelanders. She hadn't trusted these men the moment she had laid eyes on them.

"Then maybe it's best we just go home." The Courier spat

"I am inclined to agree." Goodwitch hissed. Professor Ozpin remained idly at the side of the conversation, refusing to add his personal opinion to the matter. He simply looked on, much like Graham and Ulysses.

The Courier raised to his feet, hand wrapped firmly around his holstered sidearm.

"I knew this would happen," he started, "Some bullshit like this. Nobody here knows what it's like to live like we do! You're all so fucking high and mighty in your fucking palaces and God damned royal fucking foods!" The Courier screamed through gritted teeth, prompting Goodwitch to raise her crop.

"You know nothing about us! NOTHING!" He continued, screaming his words to the faces of Goodwitch and Ozpin, "You all just think you're too good for the likes of us…"

The Courier turned to his comrades, "I'm leaving. And then I'm coming back with an army and I'm gonna throw this place to its knees." He pivoted around to face Ozpin and Goodwitch for a final time.

"You will know superiority when it arrives on your doorstep. We are survivors. _You are nothing._"


	14. Chapter 14 - Rising Hell

***Blah*blah*blah* super late chapter*blah*blah*blah***

* * *

**Chapter 14: Rising Hell**

"I'm afraid the Courier has been showing a rather… hostile side as of late." Joshua Graham continued idly inspecting his signature armoury of 45. Auto pistols at Ozpin's desk, managing to create several piles of sidearms on the headmaster's desk, completely occupying the wooden table.

"And…?" Ozpin attempted to prompt extra information from the Burned Man.

"It is rather easy to decipher his path. No doubt he has travelled back to the Wastes to gather assistance from his companions, perhaps his army." Sliding the magazine back into the gun, Graham gently rested the 45. onto the desk, beginning his examination of yet another sidearm.

"Army?" The headmaster questioned, casually observing Joshua in his actions.

"To say the least." Was all Graham returned.

"Hmm…" Ozpin started thoughtfully, "Do you not care for your friend?"

"It would be a step to call him a friend, though his words have swayed my actions in the past and have managed to clear my blinded views." Joshua's eyes grew blank, "So I suppose I should call him a saviour; a companion if other."

Joshua's hands halted, freezing mid-action as he held a 45. auto still in the air.

"As for Ulysses," Joshua started, "I know little of the man other than his past. I don't know his relationship with the Courier, nor do I believe he would hesitate to kill Courier Six if events were shifted."

The headmaster smiled softly, "I'm sure your friend has enough sense of mind to tell right from wrong."

"There is no right or wrong in that man's mind, Ozpin," Joshua replied, "True he may have stayed my hand from committing a heinous act that would no doubt have returned me to my roots, but the Courier acts on his own behalf; uses his own judgement of karma, what is wrongful and what is true to God." Joshua Graham gently set the 45. down on the table, leaning forward to address Ozpin sincerely, "Do not underestimate the predicament you have found yourself in, Ozpin. You are no doubt on the brink of war; you have no idea what that man is capable of doing to another man; even an entire region. I would not take this situation lightly; my fears tell me that your students will be the first to go."

Ozpin looked to the floor, "Then I suppose I must ask for your help."

* * *

Courier Six glared ahead in irritable disbelief. His eyes wandered angrily across a vast ocean of blue laid out beneath his feet as he stood perched at the peak of a small outstretched ridge along the large cliff face overlooking a mesmerizingly beautiful sea.

But the Courier was far from joyous at the beauty of the sight, instead adopting anger and confusion into his mind. A full hour of walking only to find somebody had decided to dig up your path home and put an ocean there. He cursed the vast blue for standing in his way.

"I swear this was the right way…" The Courier sighed, exhausted by his own disappointment. Slowly, Six slid slowly down, resting himself onto the ground and carelessly slipping his helmet off and tossing it aside. The helmet toppled, cracking against the rocky ground and tumbling further back into the forest, rolling to a stop and resting itself in the bushes a few metres away.

Six ran his fingers through his hair and sighed in frustration, his breath forming a small steamy cloud beyond his eyes. He watched it quickly dissipate into the air. Winter grew inevitably close; a quick and unexpected change of seasons over the past day, the warmth of the sun dissipating to be overgrown by the frosty wolves that would soon fill the air with their cold climates and unbearable violence delivered in hands of frostbite.

"No... no no no, there has to be another way." The Courier quickly rose to his feet, removing his plasma rifle from his back into a sturdy grip between his veteran hands. His grip tightened with strong determination, "There's always a way… A way for everything…" He muttered to himself as he retrieved his helmet, nestled comfortably in the heart of an overgrowing bush, and secured it over his head.

His feet hammered heavily against the mixture of dirt and rock squelched beneath his boots as he paced through the thickness of the forest. The silence that brushed between the trees filled the air with an eerie disturbance; too quiet compared to his experience during Ozpin's initiation test. The Courier remained on high alert, his eyes constantly probing the dense underbrush for any possibilities of a sneak attack from whatever was stupid enough to lunge out from the wall of darkness that filled almost every turn between the greenery. His pace slowed and the Courier honed his hearing.

Faint squeals could be heard; some sort of pig. The Courier grew closer to the source and squeals transformed to screams; inhuman, like an animal being tortured. The screams cut and the silence returned to the forest, only accompanied by a gentle wind. The Courier continued onward, plasma rifle aimed onward to combat any advancing threats from the undergrowth.

A squelch halted the Courier and he looked to the source of the sound, finding the corpse of a Grimm, torn half to shreds; completely massacred with hardly any identifiable features remaining on its body. Six leant down to examine the amalgamated mess beneath his feet but his attention was snapped back to more high-pitched squealing erupting from the leaves ahead.

Six's finger tensed on the trigger of his rifle as he slowly parted the branches of the tree with his free hand. What the Courier saw next was a revelation his mind could barely comprehend.

All the Courier could do was stand erect with his mouth slightly ajar as he witnessed the scene presented before his eyes. Six's instinct quickly took hold of the strings pulling his body and he threw himself quietly against the trunk of the largest nearby tree he could find, hugging his plasma rifle as close to his chest as he could. His breath sped as he tried to calm himself.

"Fuck…" was all the Courier uttered before peeking his head around the side to catch another glimpse of the beast. There it sat, a hunchbacked, bipedal reptilian creature with long humanoid arms that rose to an intimidating height of near nine feet. Its hide bore the colours of the Mojave winds and the creature's razor-blade claws dug deep into the bowels of a squealing Grimm creature. The Boarbatusk writhed in immense pain as the creature rooted its claws about its innards, as if searching for something among the animal's organs.

"Fucking Deathclaw…" the Courier jittered as he spoke, pulling his plasma rifle back into a firm and ready grip in his hands. He slowly inched his head around the tree trunk once more to be met only with the creature's pure white eyes staring through him. Startled, the Courier jumped into action, raising his weapon and readying his finger on the trigger as he took a crouched position, steadying his aim on the Deathclaw's head; a much broader target than the heads of most other things the Courier had senselessly slaughtered through his journeys in the Mojave.

To Six's ultimate surprise, the Deathclaw made no further move to cleave him in two, simply staring deeply at the Courier with its beady eyes. It continued to idly root about in the Boarbatusk's corpse, the Grimm creature having died some few seconds ago.

"Come on then!" The Courier yelled, "Come a little closer so I blow your brains out like the rest of your friends!" Oh such distinct memories the Courier had of the countless bloodbaths he had been involved in… though most of the Deathclaw bloodbaths had usually consisted more of his own blood than the creatures'. He could've sworn he had died during one of those… the memory was hazy.

The Deathclaw, instead of performing the casual Deathclaw response to most things and attempting to cut the Courier in half, rose to its full height, heaved out a long breath, and lumbered back into the forest. The rustle of leaves was all that sustained to mark the Wasteland beast's departure from the scene, leaving behind only a newly-slain corpse, freshly ripe with the taste of blood fluttering about the air. The Courier, still startled with confusion rushing about his mind, lowered his rifle slightly.

"What… the fuck?" the Courier returned to his casual upright stance, cracking his neck a couple times, "Yeah… you better run… bitch." The Courier holstered his weapon and walked over to examine the Grimm corpse, kneeling beside it and examining the treeline to ensure the creature would not return unexpectedly.

"I swear to God I have no idea what just happened…" The Courier carefully parted the wound that cut through the Boarbatusk's belly with his forefinger and thumb; robbed completely of organs. If the Courier could recall his extensive research on Grimm anatomy correctly, the Grimm definitely had organs. The only conclusive drawing was that the Deathclaw had taken them… for what though? Food? Perhaps.

"It sure as hell aint safe here anymore…" The Courier spoke to himself, laying out his options, "and I sure as hell am not going back to that damn school… Shit." Six greatly objected against the idea of wandering around a forest with a Deathclaw, especially considering the dense underbrush and cat-like agility and speed of Deathclaws; It was no safe place to be. The only logical solution was to head to the city... it would be feasible if Six actually knew the way to the city from the unknown predicament he had found himself in.

The next thing would be to find a cave or large clearing where he would have his back against a wall and a suitable place to sleep, seeing as the sun was already dipping below the treeline. The Courier could salvage his survival skills and manifest a small campfire and pray to God that he wouldn't attract any unwanted attention. Luckily for him, he could already see the perfect basecamp.

He set foot cautiously inside the mouth of the cave, slipping the Mysterious Magnum from its holster and holding it at the ready. He would need to be sure the cave was clear if he were to set up camp for the while. His helmet's in-built night vision function aided the courier through the darks of the cave until he came to a split-section, two individual corridors leading off in completely separate directions, each a seemingly tight fit for a man his size. Taking the armour off would perhaps ease his time squeezing through each of them, but removing his armour even temporarily put him at a greatly increased risk of injury and death, the latter being slightly more intimidating as a consequence. Seeing no other option, the Courier urged himself through the tightly-formed passage, slipping through sideways.

The passage was pitch-black, not an inch of light; the perfect environment for his night vision. The tunnel continued for a painful length, the journey seeming to take around ten minutes to complete in its entirety, quite the time to be sandwiched between two solid stone walls.

The Courier eventually came to the end of the passage, desperately trying to force himself out the small crack in the wall, only just able to wrap a hand around a stone stalagmite to stop himself from toppling down into the vast open cavern beneath the ledge he was now situated on.

"Holy shit…" the Courier uttered, staring out into the stretch of open cavernous floors beyond him. There had to be at least an acre of open space before the Courier, just laid out, completely vacant of all life. The darkness spanned for days, blotting out the farthest ends of the untenanted space with splotches of thick black.

"Fucking jackpot." The Courier smiled, "Now all I need is an army."


	15. Chapter 15 - New Blood, New Will

**Chapter 15: New Blood, New Will**

The Courier sighed, tossing a couple little stones into the blackness below. Silence was dominant for the moment before the stones collided with something solid, sending a clattering sound echoing throughout the cavern.

"Damn…" the Courier muttered, "That's a long fucking drop."

"You are fully aware that we are not cut out to be teachers, so I'm still confused as to why you would offer us the position of a teacher. The most I could do for your students is evaluate their skills, perhaps point out there weaknesses, but I'm afraid that is the peak of my current capabilities."

Ozpin stared at Joshua for a while before replying, "Yes, you're right." The devastation Graham had promised the Courier would bring had the headmaster on the edge somewhat. He saw the Burned Man's eyes – eyes that wouldn't lie at a time like this.

"Now," Joshua continued, "If the Courier has managed to find passage back to the Mojave, there is little I can do for you other than tell you to run or fight; on the off chance that he hasn't, however, I may be able to provide a few words on the kind of technology he may be carrying around – though I suspect Ulysses would know more on the matter than I do."

Ozpin stayed silent for a matter of minutes before opening, "I would like to ask you to speak with Professor Goodwitch about combat training." She had left rather abruptly after the Courier had stormed out. "I will brief her on the situation."

"One last thing." Ozpin called to Graham as he walked away. The man turned back to face Beacon's headmaster.

"I would like to request that you keep your focus on Team RWBY. They are my most trusted team and I believe that, since this is most likely going to end with the Courier's death, they would be optimal for the job."

"I'm afraid I fail to see the reasons as to why those girls are your most trusted team." Graham responded.

"I have my reasons." Was Ozpin's simple answer.

Joshua Graham nodded, deciding against questioning the man's judgement, "I'll send for Ulysses."

* * *

Ulysses arrived ten minutes later; he let Ozpin speak first.

"I suppose you can guess why you are here."

"No need to guess," Ulysses replied, "If you already know."

"Very well…" Ozpin took a sip of coffee, "I would like to request that you teach a history class – teach your history."

"History is good in way of words; can't sway Courier Six with words though."

"I still believe that learning your world's history could prove to be an advantage over this new threat."

"Perhaps some… but children won't listen to an old man beat on about the past."

Ozpin sighed, "I would hope you'd be able to find a way about that."

"Never said I couldn't. You can try. They won't know the coming war until they witness its fruits first hand."

Ozpin was silent.

"Until the Courier gives a demonstration of his prowess, nobody will believe you."

"I'm afraid to say that I have no other option other than trying."

Ulysses stood to leave, "Then I'll play my part when the children realise the clash in history."

* * *

Joshua Graham had never been certain about Courier Six.

Ever since the Courier had convinced him to spare Salt-Upon-Wounds, Joshua had considered the Courier a close ally, perhaps even a friend. There was, however, a great extent of the Courier that remained shrouded in unparalleled mystery.

He rolled into Zion unexpectedly, tearing down each and every hostile entity in his path as if it were a walk in the park. He had taken a simple walk through Zion after watching his caravan fall to the Tribals, hardly batting an eyelid at their sudden demise.

Graham had expected another Courier to pass through Zion, one with whom he had an entangled history with; a deadly history. It was almost laughable how that very man he was expecting had been rallied along with him and had wandered blindly together into this new world. Their past shared horrid experiences, but their unclear rivalry had been swept through with the beheading of Caesar at Courier Six's hands.

From what Graham had learned, the Courier was a wanderer. Wandered the Mojave for a time after finally taking his revenge on the man who shot him in the head; the fancy man in the white-checkered suit.

The Courier seemed to have isolated himself on a melancholic hill, killing anything that looked at him with murderous intent and helping out where he could, disappearing off into the night when the day's end rolled about. The Courier had always kept his past in the dark, often refusing to mention a single thing about events prior to his time in the Mojave.

Joshua Graham wandered through the archway that marked the territory of Beacon's arena building. The hallway leading to the main hall was long and wide, lit by eerily dim lights and adopting a strange sense power. It almost made the Burned Man feel stronger.

The floodlights that marked the arena floor broke the ominous lighting of the hallway as Joshua Graham neared its end. The intense clash of metal-to-metal rang through the arena building, colliding with Joshua violently. The chatter and cheering amongst the crowd barely undermined the strength of the sound of clashing blades.

As he found himself on the outskirts of the arena floor, the intense lighting sparked irritation in Joshua as he circled around the arena floor, heading slowly towards Glynda Goodwitch who was currently overviewing the match from within the 'safe' crevices at the edge of the arena floor, opposing the elevated crowd. She hardly looked happy.

The Burned Man heard the tone of the crowd change from pleasant to somewhat suspicious as several students noted his new presence in the room. Looking up to the stands, he only recognised one set of girls, team RWBY, if he remembered correctly. It seemed as if they were passing words about him.

"Who's fighting?" Joshua asked Goodwitch as he came to stand by her side.

"Why are you here?" She quickly shot, throwing an intense glare his way.

Joshua sighed, "Ozpin sent you a message."

Goodwitch huffed, "Yes, ye she did." She went back to watching the two students duking it out in the centre of the ring. Joshua turned to watch them.

He didn't recognise either of them, but they were certainly good melee combatants – a girl with long, red hair dressed in some sort of bronze-plate armour (though it barely covered half her body, her limbs blatantly exposed) with a shield in her left hand and a small blade in her right was engaged with a cowboy-esque looking boy who adopted the look and stance of a typical western gunslinger, a fancy revolver holstered on each thigh and a one-handed sword firmly in his grip, its scabbard strapped firmly to his back.

He had a linen wrap covering the lower half of his face and his wide-brimmed hat shaded the upper half. His other attire consisted of what seemed to be metal-plated tight-fitting vest that clearly exposed his arms. He seemed larger than the average male student Joshua Graham had seen wandering about the campus and elsewhere and was, admittedly, impressively built.

The two had locked blades in the centre of the arena and simply stood leaning their weight against each other. Joshua's eyes caught the linen wrap on the boy's face shift slightly as he uttered a few inaudible words before their blades parted and the battle continued. Joshua turned back to conversing with Goodwitch, ignoring the battle.

"If I'm going to be reviewing your students I suppose I'll need some sort of introduction, unless you declined?" Joshua said

"It's not as if I had much of a say in the matter." Goodwitch replied sternly before sighing. "I'll introduce you after this match, and then I'll allow you to get acquainted with the students." She stared at him for a while before finishing, "Please don't interfere with anything important."

Graham huffed out a dry, heartless chuckle as he turned back to face the ongoing match. Something seemed odd about the cowboy-esque boy; he almost seemed familiar. Graham shook off the feeling.

"Who's fighting?" Graham pressed once more, this time receiving a direct answer from Goodwitch.

"Pyrrha Nikos and Ivan Kiss." She replied simply

"Kiss?" The name was strange

"Yes," Goodwitch replied, "Second place in the Mistral Regional Tournament last year; Miss Nikos has won said tournament four years in a row."

"Combat tournament?" Joshua questioned

"Annual." Goodwitch answered

Joshua Graham was silent for a short time before opening, "Semblance?" Goodwitch stared at him in mock surprise.

"My my, been studying have we?" She scorned

Joshua's tone was far from amused, yet he kept his emotions in line and let Glynda's mockery pass over.

"Is it wrong that I have been researching?" he replied dryly

Glynda just 'hmph'ed in return and began addressing the students. The apparent outcome of the match had been the victory of Pyrrha Nikos, if just barely. She helped her opponent to his feet and they exchanged a few friendly words before dispersing and returning to the stands, joining their friends and teams.

"Quiet please," Glynda requested loudly towards the crowd as they quickly silenced themselves. "Due to forthcoming events, we have been required to employ a new teacher here in our Combat Training department." She looked over to Graham, urging the man forward. He stepped to the centre of the arena.

"I am Joshua Graham." The Burned man introduced. Murmurs went through the crowd.

'_Why does he have all those bandages?'_

'_Where is he from?'_

'_Never heard of him'_

'_He looks like a tramp'_

Most of these were simple repeats from the murmurs that he elicited from them when he had initially made his presence true in the building.

"I pray to God that the forthcoming events will hold little negative impact on you as people, but I'm afraid I cannot guarantee the safety of the people in this room." More murmurs came.

'_What is he talking about?'_

'_I'm so confused'_

"I am here to attempt my best to train you for these future events; I shall not make promises that I cannot keep. It is likely that many will die."

'_This guy sounds a bit… crazy'_

"We all go through periods of dark times, and one such is dawning on us as we speak. In such times we can turn to the Lord, but it is good to have friends. I look at you and I see you have made strong friendships in your short time here."

'_Oh, that's one of the guys who did their initiation late!'_

"I see you all have friends to turn to and I would like to wish you all my luck," He slid out A Light Shining in Darkness and began inspecting it with fluent motion, unloading the magazine and removing each round from it and checking the empty clip, "for my judgement is simply the beginning of your preparation." He cocked the pistol, checking the barrel before reloading the magazine and slipping it back into the gun, loading it and casually popping it back into its holster, "The road is a difficult one, and many of you will fall when we reach the end of our road."

"I will observe your performance in multiple combat scenarios and evaluate your performance, from there we shall work forward. Questions?"

With the crowd's silence, he dismissed himself.

"God be with you."

Whilst he made his way out of the arena to his and Ulysses' provided residence, Goodwitch directed a few more words to her class before dismissing them from the room. Chatter picked up as the students rose from their seats, most eager to find rest in their beds or just in their dorms.

"U-umm… excuse me?" Joshua turned his head. Ruby Rose.

"Mister Graham?" She asked nervously

"What can I do for you?" Graham replied. The girl was far ahead of the rest of her class. She was fast.

"Well, I was just wondering, y'know… if I could maybe… see your weapons?" She stuttered out

Graham remained silent for a moment, thinking.

"Oh. I remember you. You seemed rather intrigued by the Courier's weapons." Ruby simply stared at him.

"You stole them." More staring

"I suppose there is little harm in showing you. Just please try to refrain from stealing again."

She jumped joyously, hyperactively, "Thank you!" She squealed

"Invite some friends. This is a good learning opportunity."


	16. Chapter 16 - Admiratio

**Yay! A chapter that hasn't been delayed for a month! I managed to construct additional pylons.**

* * *

**Chapter 16: Admiratio**

Joshua Graham had thought little to nothing of the inhabitants of Remnant, preferring instead to focus more intently on his own advancement in these new lands; but he found himself growing slightly more interested in just what types of people and personalities there were to discover on Remnant as he watch Ruby fondle and drool about the arrangement of weapons he had laid out for the girl to discover. He found himself questioning how one's mind could be so focused on weaponry rather than survival or loss, perhaps even the advancement of humanity would be a more valid subject than gawking over a pile of weapons. Joshua Graham knew of nobody in the wastes that would obsess themselves so much with weaponry.

Ruby sounded disappointed when Joshua told her she couldn't see the plasma rifle the Courier carried throughout the initiation sequence. She pouted and asked, "Why?"

Graham simply responded, "Because he is now an enemy." He was sure Ruby was about to question him further about the Courier (or the plasma rifle) but something seemed to catch her eye. Red Glare was laid out on a table on the far side of the room. Ruby was accompanying it in an instant, the girl immediately recognising it as one of the 'cool guns' (as she referred to them) that the Wastelanders had used during the initiation sequence.

Ruby had, upon Joshua's suggestion, brought her team along to 'browse' the fancy weapons with her. They all seemed eager and keen to get hands on the foreign weaponry, but Joshua prohibited firing of the guns. That didn't mean they didn't try. Each time the white-haired girl, Weiss, would question the mechanisms of the various weaponry, her hand would slip down to the weapon's trigger. Joshua would calmly move her hand away each time and then she would question how each of them were so devastating without having to use dust.

"How do you know they don't use dust?" Joshua had questioned.

"Well, the ammunition…" Weiss had then continued to rant about how the ammunition for each weapon had no traces of dust and how some of the weapons' firing mechanisms were inoperable without the use of dust as a propellant or some other fancy thing. Joshua was far from interested in the subject as he already had a fundamental understanding on the properties and uses of dust, but he gave her the benefit of the doubt and listened to her detailed lecture for the sake of being kind.

Yang was, thankfully, not so eager to be firing weapons indoors. It seemed she was possibly afraid of the outcomes, as if she had tried something similar before. Unlike her sister, Yang was not so much indulged in the mechanisms and workings of each weapon but instead more keen to see them in action once again. Whilst she may not have been a weapons freak like her sister, Yang wouldn't deny that the guns were foreign to her and made extremely cool explosions and sounds.

Blake seemed to be more interested in the Burned man – more interested in the wielder of the weaponry rather than the weaponry itself. Each time Joshua glanced over to ensure she wasn't doing anything out of question, he would catch her glaring at him, only for her to quickly avert her gaze to either her teammates or the scenery laid out by the Wastelanders' room. To the average eye, Blake would be seen as doing similar things to her teammates, interesting herself in the technology or other; but to Joshua's above average perceptive skills she was most likely examining him.

Why was she examining him though? Was it the bandages? Was she suspicious? Was she questioning the whereabouts of the Courier? It could've been many things.

Whatever question dominated her mind to examine the Burned man so intently was unclear to him, but whatever it was, it was clearly bothering her to a great extent. Being affiliated with the Courier, considering the violent and misunderstood events that had transpired in the recent past, probably had a great deal to do with the girl's obvious scepticism. The man had come close to killing her friends, and he probably would've if there was nobody else there to stop him from doing it.

Ruby suddenly piped up with a question. "How many Grimm can this kill?" She squealed. Joshua Graham flinched slightly. Blake noticed.

The word 'kill' was something Joshua almost despised. He lived in a world where the one and only law was 'kill or be killed' and he still hated the word. Joshua never enjoyed killing, but he knew it was an action he had to do in order to live and a mission that would be appointed by God someday. As he once said to the Courier, _"I don't enjoy killing, but when done righteously, it's just a chore, like any other."_

"Enough." Was Joshua's simple reply. He was silent before continuing, "I have to talk with someone, please don't fire off any guns whilst I'm gone." The Burned man took one last quick glance at Blake before he left the room. Blake didn't bother to look as if she was focused elsewhere, instead she focused her stare on him as he left the room.

Blake couldn't read that man. His eyes told nothing, no warmth or cold to be exposed. The bandages didn't help with determining his person either. She didn't even know what the bandages hid.

From what the Burned man had exhibited so far, Blake could deduce that he was a kind and caring man, religious and friendly to others, not judgemental and accepting, a calm and collected person; but what if it was all a ruse? He seemed perfectly capable of creating such a façade, considering his collected demeanour towards others. She also noticed that he seemed to have held a conversation with Professor Goodwitch earlier that day in the arena, which was, as far as Blake knew, uncommon for anyone.

His companion, Courier Six, was a nutcase in Blake's mind; random outbursts of violence and anger whilst being fairly friendly and collected at other times. His violent actions gave him a harsh reputation among the Beacon Academy students.

Blake had questioned why Joshua Graham had answered _'Because he is now an enemy'_ when Ruby asked about the Courier. Was this related to the 'future events' that he had spoken about in his speech earlier? Probably not.

As for the other late arrival – Ulysses, Blake believed his name was – he was practically impossible to read. She didn't have many opportunities to analyse him either.

Blake let out an inward sigh and decided to use the time to study their weaponry. There had to be something out of place that she could use.

"So I believe this is the best was to properly gauge and assess your students' performance." Joshua wrapped up his explanation to Goodwitch. The woman stood up from behind her desk.

"Mister Graham, I'm afraid that scenario is rather out of the question." She held a blank look on her face.

Joshua retorted, "I have already gained consensus from your superior, he agrees with this setup and, apparently, was thinking about proposing a similar scenario to be put into action."

Goodwitch sighed, "Then I suppose I should take this up with Ozpin."

* * *

"Maybe I overreacted a little…" The Courier mused as his legs hung off the ragged stone edge off into the blackened abyss below. He idly swung them back and forth over the darkness as he recounted several 'choices' he had made.

"Nah." The Courier concluded.

He began the painful journey back to the outside world, through the several tightly compacted tunnels. When he made it out, the light of the sunny day had been replaced by a haunting moonlight hanging over the forest. The forest floor was nearly pitch black save several small openings in the canopy and the odd large clearings dotted about the immense forest.

The Courier flicked on his helmet's night vision and trekked forth into the forest, slipping his plasma rifle from his back.

The night brought a much more intense darkness to the forest than it did to the Mojave, the trees offering shelter from most moonlight. Otherwise, the casual night time glow was significantly more illuminating than that of the Mojave, probably because the moon looked a great deal larger than it usually did back in the Wastes.

The night also brought along an odd aura of danger with the wind, the Courier feeling as if something could jump and kill him effortlessly at any given moment. His senses heightened and Six became more alert, responding to each crack or rustle about him. Mostly, they were simple misconceptions; a squirrel or bird, but every ten minutes, a Beowolf would unexpectedly sprout up from the undergrowth like some sort of horny radioactive plant.

Each Grimm that popped up unexpectedly was quickly liquidated by the Courier's plasma rifle; an effortless dispatch.

A high-pitched squeal broke the forest canopy and the Courier instantly dropped to his knees, backed against a tree. He looked for an opening in the canopy where he could spot the sky.

Spotting one in the near distance, the Courier cautiously stalked towards it, using each tree as cover just in case whatever had made the sound was able to spot him.

Looking out through the opening, a black silhouette circled his head in the moonlit sky. The thing was giant – it had to have at least a thirty foot wingspan. It looked to be a bird, save the odd protrusions from each wing and the lacking tail feathers.

"That's a new one…" The Courier grumbled, "The books must've missed one."

Six holstered his plasma rifle and removed the microfusion cell from it to dissipate the luminous green substance that formed at the front of the gun. Fortunately, the airborne creature seemed to take no notice of the Courier as he stalked through the forest undergrowth, Mysterious Magnum in hand and eyes sharp.

His attention directed on the large bird-like creature hovering circles above, Six barely managed to avoid a swipe from a bellowing Ursa as it came bounding through the trees. He rolled left, unloading a pair of bullets into the Grimm's face and releasing a sickly crimson onto the trees behind it. The creature persisted and lunged forward, the Courier sidestepping and firing a round into the Ursa's leg, toppling the bear-like creature.

An aching screech dominated the sky and the Courier quickly unloaded the remainder of his loaded bullets into the Ursa before holstering the Mysterious Magnum and unslinging the plasma rifle from his back, hastily loading a microfusion cell back into the gun.

His back hit a tree and his head tilted up to gather a visual of the bird. Nothing.

Before the Courier could react, a pair of trees were ripped from the earth beside him and a swarm of talons filled his vision, tearing clean through his Riot Gear and creating a withered waterfall of red from his chest. The Courier groaned in pain and fired off a rogue shot, hoping to hit his adversary.

He couldn't tell the outcome as another screech filed the air.

The Courier took off running, sticking to the thicker gatherings of plant life and hoping to go unnoticed.

Six broke through the shrubbery into a large opening, gasping to refresh the air in his lungs. His eyes blurred, but quickly refocused on the stone gathering ahead of him. He recognised it as the initiation zone.

"_Fuck_." The Courier rasped. He had managed to wander back into Ozpin's playpen.

He hissed as pain rifled through his chest, the cuts inflicted by the creature's claws creating an immense pain that felt as if it were coming from inside him.

Averting his tired eyes to the sky, the Courier spotted the black-tinted creature, illuminated by his helmet's night-vision capabilities. It circled like a hawk about its prey, beaded eyes staring intently at the Courier. He grasped at his chest as the pain began to spread from his wounds.

"Oh…" realisation dawned on the Courier.

"That's not a fucking bird."


	17. Chapter 17 - Not a Bird

**Chapter 17: Not a Bird**

A pillar of blazing red spewed forth from the creature's mouth, engulfing a column of trees and instantly degrading them to ashes as the Courier rolled to evade the attack.

"Fuckin' bird my ass!" The Courier shouted as he unloaded a hail of plasma into his airborne adversary as it hovered still, magnificent wings suspending it in the air as it bobbed up and down. The green orbs contacted their target, seemingly having no effect on the creature as they sizzled violently on the surface of the creature's carapace.

"Ahhh, what the _fuck_ is this shit!?" Six dove behind a tree, narrowly avoiding a cascade of flames as they hurtled through the air, lighting the wall of trees alight behind him and practically disintegrating the ones at the forefront of the attack.

"Fuck!" Six cursed as he ran through the underbrush, trees as his cover. The beast's eyes trailed on him without failure as it hovered idly above the clearing. The damn thing looked like something he had once seen in one of those old _'Grognak the Barbarian'_ comics, a sort of odd mix between a bird and a goddamn dragon. It breathed fire too, just to rub it in.

Dragons were bullshit.

Especially when they have babies with mutant birds.

Speaking of mutant birds, Six was honestly surprised with the distinct lack of mutated birds trying to tear his head off back in the wasteland. In fact, Six had never in his life seen a mutated bird. There were ravens though, he saw a couple of them here and there. They served as good target practice.

The Courier fired at the airborne creature again, his plasma projectiles having exactly the same effect as they did earlier, just fizzling away harmlessly.

Holy _fuck_ that would make some kickass armour!

Six tried bullets, but the 357. rounds from the Mysterious Magnum had no noticeable effect. He rolled to avoid the next column of fire the creature spewed his way.

'_Weak points,'_ Six thought, _'It has to have weak points somewhere… the eyes!'_

Six slid behind another tree. By now The Courier had figured out that the creature's mouth glowed red for about three seconds before it attacked, so that gave him some time to and flexibility to develop some sort of strategy. He aimed for the eyes, firing off two shots. Both missed the uncovered eyes, sizzling against its armour plating.

By now, the Courier had also managed to catch onto the creature's distinct lack of Grimm-like features; it wasn't covered in black and white from head-to-toe, but rather its grey-scale armour plates would cover most of the body. This thing didn't look like a Grimm, but what would Six know? He had only been here for like… a couple weeks or something. He couldn't really remember.

It was going to be hard hitting such small targets from so far with a plasma rifle. He rolled left to avoid the next attack and switched the microfusion cell in his rifle for a new one. Firing a couple stray shots at the creature, he continued shifting through the thinning treeline as he clipped a Stealth Boy to his wrist. A short resonating buzz sounded out as the Courier was enveloped in the device's modulating field.

If Lady Luck was on Six's side, this thing wouldn't have heat-based vision or anything of the sort, but considering the Courier's recent luck, it was probably safe to say it could still see him.

The Courier emerged from the treeline into the opening, still under the effects of the Stealth Boy, to gain more manoeuvrability.

"Hey, me." Six said, "Do you think it can see me?"

'_Fuck you,' Six replied to himself mentally, 'Go kill it and stop talking to yourself.'_

"Fine."

Fortunately, Six had managed to save a few .308 rounds. He pulled out the Gobi Campaign Scout Rifle and aimed for one of the beast's eyes. He drew his breath sharply inward, holding it and steadying his hands. The crosshair landed direct centre of the flapping creature's eye, Six tracing it as the beast bobbed up and down. His timing had to be precise to hit his target. Roughly 50 metres, 60 degree incline. The bullet would have to be placed around a metre above the creature's eye. The only unnerving part about it; the thing was staring him down with malicious intent. It didn't even have pupils; a blank slate of white, like a deathclaw's eyes.

"Don't fuck this up." Six whispered to himself as he pulled back on the trigger, the gun jolting in his grip as the bullet flew from the Gobi's barrel.

It squealed in pain, jerking its head from left to right in anguish as it tried to shake the pain. It grounded itself, using its wings to act as arms to support its talon-tipped legs as it renewed its gaze on the Courier. Its beak-like mouth snapped open as it let out a deafening screech, like that of a hawk but a lot louder.

His ears rang as the Courier tried to block out the piercing sound. It felt longer than it actually persisted; feeling like near to a minute of agonising ringing through his head. Something struck him from behind and his back was suddenly stinging violently. He rolled forward, the newly-formed cuts on his back aching like all hell as he stiffened back up, firing a blind shot from the Mysterious Magnum to where he had previously been standing.

The bullet struck a Beowolf in the leg, sending it to its knees; another finished it off as three more reared from the treeline.

'_How the hell did it cut through my armour?'_

Two more bullets put down the other Beowolves as more jumped from the bushes in the treeline into the opening.

He reached his hand around and dragged it across the stinging cut. When he brought it back to his eye line it was sheeted in blood.

"Fuck." Six vocalised his thoughts before he turned his head slightly to check on the big flying fucker behind him.

'_Holy shit it's gone.'_

Six was sent into a small panic as his eyes scanned the sky for his adversary, yet to no avail. Something clamped down on his shoulder, digging violently into the upper layers of his skin. Unable to see what had dug into his shoulder, he dragged his shoulder down; tossing the Beowolf that had swung for him over his head and onto the ground where it met its fate at the end of the Mysterious Magnum's barrel. More Beowolves encroached from behind.

'_One bullet left… you wanna reload that?'_ Six mentally inquired before loading 5 more bullets into the revolver and drawing Chance's Knife.

"Alright you rusty old shit… don't fail me now." Six said as he flipped Chance's knife into a reverse grip. He watched the movement of the three closest Beowolves with the eye of a vulture.

One lunged forward, followed closely by a second. Six ducked under the horizontal swipe from the first Grimm, diving head-first into the second advancing Beowolf and digging Chance's Knife cleanly through the creature's hide. Instead of withdrawing the blade, he kept it dug firmly inside and used his leverage to lift the now-limp body to block an attack from the third Grimm.

The attack carried little power and barely staggered the Courier as he put a bullet in the third Beowolf from behind his meat shield. Chance's Knife slid cleanly out of the second's flesh and Six spun just in time to counter the first Beowolf with a quick slash to its shoulder. He moved in close, driving Chance's Knife through the Beowolf's skull. The creature fell limp.

"Oh boy!" Six chuckled, "It's been a while since we've done this!"

Six counted at least eight more Beowolves and one Ursa. Luckily, they seemed around twenty metres out, having emerged on the opposite side of the clearing.

'_Alright, don't forget about the big fucker… something that big can't just disappear.'_

Six produced the Survivalist's Rifle from… somewhere. He took aim at the closest Beowolf and fired two rounds into it, the first staggering and the second suppressing the creature for good. He repeated the process for two more Beowolves as they began bounding towards him, reaching him before he could kill any more from range.

The Courier unsheathed Chance's Knife, forcefully dropping the Survivalist's Rifle to the ground, and bunny hopped the first Beowolf, the creature flying straight under his feet as Six planted his boots on the Beowolf that followed shortly behind its fellow Grimm, sending it skidding into the dirt face-first. He jumped off the skidding body and blocked a vertical swipe from a third Beowolf with his forearm, sending Chance's Knife into the bipedal creature's elbow. The Beowolf scooted backwards in pain and Six's gloved hand slipped from the knife's grip before he could retrieve it.

The Courier turned back to face the Beowolf he had jumped, just in time to roll and avoid a lunging bite from the creature. He drew the Mysterious Magnum and unloaded a bullet straight through its skull, the creature immediately collapsing dead before Six fired another round, this time into the other Beowolf lunging for him, the one he had landed on. Dirt caked its face and teeth before the new addition of a bullet hole was introduced to the collection.

The newly-wounded Beowolf came at him with fire in its eyes, vengeance in its claws. It swiped with its good arm and the Courier sidestepped, throwing his hands forward and catching the creature's head in his grip. He tore its head to the side, destroying its neck and quickly retrieving Chance's Knife from its elbow.

The fifth Beowolf was upon him quickly and clamped its jaws down on his forearm, tearing viciously at his flesh and passing clean through his armour. The Courier's nerve endings spiked as he let a bullet tear through his harasser, unfortunately clipping his arm in the process.

"Fuck." The Courier growled beneath his breath. A massive force suddenly crushed down on his back, sending the Courier to the floor. Despite the crushing pain encumbering his body, Six rolled onto his back to catch sight of whatever had hit him.

'_Oh… the furry Yao Guai…'_

The large bear-like creature reared, ready to bring its claws down in one fell swoop; a final blow to kill its prey.

Time slowed for the Courier as his mind kicked into overdrive, searching for ways to survive.

_Roughly four seconds until impact…_

_Mysterious magnum? No, it fell from my hands when it hit me_

_I think I landed on the knife when I fell, my belly kind of stings… Not enough time to pull it out, nor enough strength or speed to get into a good position to use it._

_The Survivalist's Rifle is on the floor somewhere five metres off, so that's a no-go._

_So then… I'm out of options._

Well, he had to do something.

Six's hands gripped Chance's Knife and began to tear the old blade from his flesh. It stung like hell, removing the jagged edges from his mid-section so carelessly.

_Two seconds…_

The pain rifled through him and his arms fell limp for a moment, unable to fight the exhaustion exhibited from the pain he was experiencing.

_One second…_

Six pushed all his strength to his arms and legs, struggling to barely catapult himself towards the creature of Grimm.

_Zero…_

Was this really how _The Courier_ was going to die? In some forest in a distant far away land, killed by some weird-looking bear. The damn thing wasn't even irradiated. If Six was going to die, he wanted to at least get killed by something he was familiar with. Hell, getting gang raped by Khans and starved to death in a jail cell whilst being fed on by malnourished puppies probably would've been more preferable to him.

'_Holy sweet Mother Mary Jesus Christ Lord in heaven what the HELL was that!?'_

A sudden flash of green saw the Ursa's head decapitated, flying from its body. Six managed to somehow freeze mid-lunge, despite his pained and whittled state.

'_Hang on, who's Jesus? Who's Mary? What the hell did I just say… Ah well, at least I know who the Lord is!'_

The Ursa's corpse toppled slowly to the floor. A girl stood behind the headless body, dark skin and emerald-green hair, dressed in garments of a similar shade. They were… fairly revealing, to say the least; definitely not designed for protection.

"Need help?" She smiled before a deafening screech filled the air

"Yeah…" the Courier sighed.

'_Oh what a long day this has been…'_


	18. Chapter 18 - History

**Holy crap guys, I cannot apologise enough for the ridiculous delays I have put this story through. I really ought to stop making promises, shouldn't I? I'll try and update you guys as often as possible, I'm so so sorry for this.**

* * *

**Chapter 18: History**

Ulysses had never deemed himself as much of a sociable man; he had never been the extrovert that he found in most people, often preferring to keep his words to himself and speak only when necessary. Of course, there were a select few who would deem him an incredibly charismatic speaker – and by the books, he technically was an extremely charismatic figure – and place him as a wise and intelligent speaker as well, but to Ulysses he was nothing more than a man blinded by vengeance and rage. He was thankful that the Courier had a likeable way with words; thankful that he was still alive to experience this journey.

Ulysses had always found great pleasure, entertainment and fascination in reading through the literature formulated by Old World minds – enticing oneself in history and knowledge was the surest path to life and survival; to learn from another's mistakes so that you may not repeat them. What is failure if not a successful lesson? Why else would such mistakes exist if humanity was destined to repeat them countlessly and not learn?

The history books of Remnant were certainly alluring – the simple thought of historical text seemed to be an immediate attraction to Ulysses, always eager for more knowledge, always eager to learn. The library of Beacon Academy offered such texts with little effort required in retrieving them. Such luxuries he had never experienced before; Old World texts were almost non-existent in the Wastes.

Ulysses, since arriving with his two companions in 'Remnant', was immediately eager to learn when he discovered the advancement of civilisation and how perfectly intact the world seemed to be just beyond the savage wastelands. Books were a perfectly adequate source, but Ulysses had discovered over the years that there was no better source of history than a survivor of it.

He was described by Doctor Klein – a Think Tank at Big MT – as a melancholy fellow who asked a lot about history. Truly he was a melancholic person, though Ulysses mostly neglected such irrelevant personality traits and instead directed his focus on reshaping the post-apocalyptic world single-handedly.

He had let Courier Six carry the package, expecting the Mojave to kill the Courier without his intervention. After hearing the Courier's words as they stood face-to-face in the Divide, the Courier had earned Ulysses' respect.

Now, the Courier had taken to discovering the new world by himself. Perhaps he would die here; maybe this world would do what the Mojave could not.

Either way, the Courier's sudden departure was nothing that neither worried nor bothered Ulysses in the slightest. True, the Courier was a man that had gained Ulysses' respect, but Courier Six had often displayed… odd behaviours. He was a smart man nonetheless and would undoubtedly be able to survive on his own, as he had been doing the majority of his years. If he decided to act offensively against Ulysses, he would simply be deemed an enemy; an obstacle to overcome.

Perhaps if Ulysses had little else to do then the Courier's exodus from the group would be a little more of a bother, but as of the current moment Ulysses was transfixed on Remnant's history. The books had offered all their knowledge – Ulysses had gone through basically all of the relevant sections since his arrival – and they could offer no more useful information. For the next step, Ulysses wanted to find the most reliable source of history promised to be around in such a world: people.

The life expectancy, Ulysses guessed, would probably be rather high for a technologically advanced society such as Remnant's, thought here was always the wild card that the Grimm posed to be. During his readings, Ulysses had discovered just how prominent the struggle between humanity and the Grimm actually was. From inside the walls it looked casual and happy, but the books told tales of deadly lands beyond the walls. What Ulysses wanted now was a survivor: somebody who had witnessed the horrors this land had to bear.

If what he found left him unsatisfied, he could always return to reshape post-apocalyptic America.

Ozpin was a likely candidate for historical facts. Ulysses' intuition told him that the man had seen his fair share of bloodshed. He would try his fare with the headmaster, if he was not satisfied then he would see himself seeking out others for historical details and stories.

* * *

"You want to learn more about history?"

Ulysses' patented blank stare was pasted onto his face as always. There was always more behind his eyes than one could see.

"Never had access to much history," Ulysses said, "Our village… was secluded. Made our own history; never battled with another's." Ulysses recalled the lie they had formulated against Ozpin, about how they had all come from a village. Ulysses never believed the man to be fooled by it, but he went with it anyway on the off chance that he was.

"Well," Ozpin began, "I notice you have taken a liking to Beacon's expansive library. I'm sure you have found all of your history there." Ozpin took a sip of coffee. The man always seemed to have coffee, regardless of where he was or the time of day. Ulysses would see him around Beacon from time to time, though rarely.

"Found some history," Ulysses returned, "Didn't find enough."

Ozpin smiled, "I'm sure you could find everything you would like to know with Doctor Oobleck. He teaches in room 23b." he was dodging the question. He had a lot to share, Ulysses saw it clearly, but instead chose to seal it off from him. He didn't blame Ozpin, though. If a man shows up at your doorstep, one does not simply sit said man down and lecture him on the mistakes they have made so that this man may learn. It was usually a personal subject, shared by choice.

Understanding Ozpin's choice, though internally frustrated with his stubbornness, Ulysses nodded politely and turned to leave the headmaster's office, the man glaring at him from behind as the Wastelander stepped through the door. Ozpin was unsure of the man; he was practically unreadable.

Letting out a soft sigh, Ozpin produced his scroll with the intent of contacting Professor Goodwitch when the device rung. As luck would have it, it was Goodwitch.

"Hello Professor." Ozpin greeted

_Mister Graham is requesting permission to take my students on a… on a field trip._ Glynda's voice came through the small speakers,_ Apparently you have already been informed of this?_

"Oh, yes." Ozpin said, recalling a prior conversation with the Wastelander, "I did approve of this, Glynda. Of course, without your compliance I am not allowed to issue this trip – they are your students after all."

Goodwitch sighed, _Thank you, sir._ She hung up.

* * *

Ulysses flipped open the book entitled 'Nature's Mysteries' for what he thought to be the eighth time since he had discovered it and unknowingly stolen it from the library. He was unaware that the library system existed and had simply… taken the book. He read it as he found his way to Oobleck's room. He was constantly looking over the page detailing the Tunneler sighting and couldn't wrap his mind around it. How could they find their way so far west?

He quickly found Oobleck's classroom – 23b, as Ozpin had specified – and found that a class was in progress. It was just before midday, after all. Ulysses observed by the door for the next fifteen minutes, getting some odd glances from a few students in the room. He knew none of them by recognition. The bell went off and the students filed out of the room, many of them giving weird glares and strange looks, probably because of his clothes.

The green-haired professor sped around the room too fast for the average eye to keep pace. Ulysses found little trouble watching the man and taking in every word of information he spurted out. He found it odd how Oobleck was able to move so fast, not to mention physically impossible. Eventually, he put it down to semblance, deciding speed was probably the man's innate power. There was no other logical explanation for the feat.

"Ah! Hello there!" The man appeared in front of Ulysses, taking a quick sip from his coffee mug, "Could I be of assistance to you Mister…"

"Need to learn about history, was told that you could help." He didn't offer his name.

"Oh, but of course!" Oobleck sped off, finding himself a seat behind his desk, Ulysses following soon after at his own pace, "Anything you need to know." He smiled.

"Read the books already… learned as much as I could. Need personal history." Ulysses stood facing the man.

"Oh… well in that case I'm afraid I can't be of much help to you. There's not much to see here!" the professor gave a light-hearted chuckle and Ulysses returned with a curt nod before ambling back out through the door. The professor watched as the Wastelander left.

* * *

This was most disappointing. Both men seemed to be adamant when it came to discussing the past, but then again they were being questioned by someone who was practically a complete stranger to them. Ulysses would probably be rigid about his own past to most people.

He had hoped he wouldn't drive himself to travel just yet, preferring to stay within beacon for at least the first year, but it seemed his curiosity required satisfaction and he wasn't going to find any in that school.

Having observed a couple of sparring matches between second-year students, Ulysses had been taken aback by their inhuman abilities. He had read somewhere about the abilities that possessing an aura allowed, but the amount of acrobatic and physical prowess he had witnessed were simply defying the laws of the world. If these people were having issues with the Grimm population, Ulysses wanted little to do with it. There was simply no way he could achieve such physical capability – perhaps if he had their age and time, maybe.

Training was in order, though he only hoped to enhance his speed, skills and reflexes just to increase his chances of surviving. He had a distinct advantage over most – experience. His survivalist instincts, intuition and determined mindset were things none of these people possessed, which made Ulysses stand out amongst the crowd. He had the knowledge to fashion weapons and the intellect to design destruction, he even had the skills to make it all possible within his hands – the advantages of being aged were useful to survival.

Secondly, he needed to find a way to access this 'aura'. Sure, he could take up a couple more bullets than the average man, but these people could soak up ten without being affected in the slightest. It would be a useful asset; a useful tool to have.

Thirdly, he needed some sort of income. Remnant was not a post-apocalyptic wasteland like America; in fact, this place seemed to be completely untouched by apocalyptic event – It seemed as though this world were completely separate from the world Ulysses knew. He could not simply kill and take, and he wouldn't exactly survive without money in what seemed to be a fully functional economical system. Mercenary work would suit him for the time being.

He had been honing his skills in one of Beacon's many training rooms, making himself familiar with the holographic technology and presenting himself with new environments and opponents to improve his ability. He had noticed a decent increase in his reaction time and accuracy as a result of these training sessions in the past week, but he didn't feel ready to leave yet. Another week would serve him well, and then perhaps he would be ready to make his departure, perhaps then he would be prepared to endure what history had in store.


	19. Chapter 19 - Field Trip

**You know, I just went back and read chapter 2 and realized how ungodly awful it was. It made me cringe.  
I'm planning to go back and rewrite it sometime, so yeah.**

* * *

**Chapter 19: Field Trip**

Joshua Graham felt an unnerving feeling flowing through his body. He felt _alive_ again, a feeling that had become so foreign to him that he began rejecting it. Perhaps it was just the simple idea of not having to live in a war-torn land, maybe it was the lack of legion assassins, but something made Joshua feel like the young man he was many years ago, spreading the word of God throughout the wastes. They were some of the better times, tough sadly they seemed to sit at the very back wall of his mind, many less favourable memories taking the spotlight. His descent into the Grand Canyon was a nightmare that simply would never die.

The Burned Man had been cleared for a 'field trip' with Glynda Goodwitch's first year students the previous day and had spent the rest of the daylight planning and preparing for the worst possible outcomes of the outing. He didn't feel it necessary to be on the receiving end of somebody's sword should easily preventable accidents occur. Of course, most injuries or accidents of any kind would be the fault of the students, as was the essence of the trip.

After Six's sudden departure and outbreak, Joshua Graham had immediately decided to prepare himself and any others he could for the worst. Looking at the students he had decidedly concluded – judging by physical interactions, general knowledge and all-around interactions – that they were most likely not ready to survive on their own should any such situation arise. Although Joshua knew little about the fauna in this new land, he certainly knew the lay-of-the-land and could certainly adapt to the wilderness in Remnant if he were in a perilous situation. Looking at the students though…

Most of them looked like they had lived either a life of luxury or had a strictly urban upbringing, neither of which could prepare them should worse come to worst.

In complete honesty, Joshua Graham didn't really see much to gain from teaching the children survival tactics, but at least it would be something to keep his mind occupies whilst he contemplated how exactly he wanted to go about the current situation at hand, that situation being summarized nicely by the title 'Six'. His religious demeanour meant that leaving Remnant to the Courier's whims and travelling back east was out of the question. He was a missionary at heart and still felt it necessary to spread the word of God, especially when the chance to be civilised presented itself before his eyes.

As he loaded 'A Light Shining in Darkness' he couldn't help but feel somewhat unprepared. A sinking feeling rose in his gut but he quickly suppressed it in his mind. He slid the sidearm into its holster on his waist and made to leave the dorm room, now only housing two of the previous three Wastelanders.

Flying was something completely foreign to The Burned Man. He had seen Vertibirds once or twice throughout his past, mostly when he had spent his time donning the title of the 'Malpais Legate', but had never boarded one. He never had the opportunity to fly, nor the necessity, so being airborne for a prolonged period of time made him sick to his stomach. Joshua did not know whether this was common during flight, but he hated it.

He had boarded a Bullhead with a team of first year students he was unfamiliar with, though he recognised one of them to be the wild west looking boy he had fist seen a few days ago who had fought against the girl with red hair and bronze armour. Pyrrha Nikos and Ivan Kiss, he recalled their names were. Fortunately for him, Goodwitch's first years congregated to a relatively small class, requiring only three Bullheads (one transporting a pair of teams and the second containing Joshua and one team whilst the third contained another team – apparently the last team took up quite a lot of space, so a third transport was necessary).

The destination set for them was a place Joshua had eyed on a map; a forest by the name of the 'Tallbreak Forest' which was known for its lush greenery, tall trees, dense animal population and low Grimm population. It was located on the western coast of Vale, directly west from the city of Vale.

When Joshua Graham had first laid eyes on a map, however, something struck him like a hammer. The land formations mapped out showed Vale surrounded by five other land masses, none of which were connected directly eastward to the land mass labelled Vale (where the Wastelanders had supposedly ended up), but the Wastelanders had walked west, through NCR territory, and had never once encountered a water body large enough to be labelled as an ocean, just a few lakes and rivers. Were the maps wrong? No, that would be highly unlikely in such a lively, active and advanced society, especially when the map was in a school.

Joshua was broken from his thoughts when somebody spoke on the Bullhead, cowboy boy, Ivan, asked, "None of us were told what this trip is about." He looked over to his teammates, a pair of girls with long black hair and blue eyes – twins – and a smaller girl who looked about five years younger than she was meant to be.

"Survival." Joshua replied curtly, somewhat cryptically, though nobody questioned.

The Bullhead touched down and Joshua hopped off hurriedly, the washy feeling in his gut dissipating as he anchored himself to solid ground again. The place they had landed was a large clearing where the forest seemed to start. The forest seemed to be rather tame and spacious, but as Graham looked further down he could spy the forest rising into the sky as an abundance of trees and greenery. It was like nothing he had ever seen before, like a beautiful desert oasis compared to the Wasteland he had known his life.

The other teams joined himself and the team he was with as their two Bullheads touched down in the clearing before the forest – four teams in total. He recognised one of the teams and was sure he had seen a couple of the other students around the school sometime.

Two of the Bullheads took off again, the aircraft Joshua had arrived in staying grounded.

He shot a finger at one of the teams, "Team name and individual names." The all-girl team he had gestured abruptly to shot each other quick sideways looks.

'_They don't trust me at all'_ The Burned Man freely and comfortably observed. It was painfully obvious to see.

"_Teeeeeam RWBY!_" The red one, Ruby (if he recalled correctly), jumped, shooting a balled fist into the air enthusiastically. "I'm Ruby!" She seemed giddy, enthusiastic almost.

"Weiss." White huffed, hand on hip and turning her head quite curtly Snobby, spoilt.

"Blake." She seemed almost bored.

"Yang!" That was a confusing expression – a cross between anticipation and worry. She still shouted her name fairly enthusiastically though.

"Next." He pointed at the next team.

"Team JNPR!" a scraggly blonde kid put his fist to his chest, an air of confidence radiating from him. It seemed misplaced to the Burned man. "Jaune Arc." He even had his eyes closed. He wouldn't be doing too well in the days to come.

"_Nora!_" The girl in pink seemed much too energetic for Joshua's liking. Such energy would get you killed in the Wastes – unless you were dosed up on Psycho, in which case few people would pick a fight you.

"Hello! I'm Pyrrha." That was an odd introduction for Joshua Graham. It seemed overly-friendly and Joshua was definitely unfamiliar with such… casual personalities.

"Ren." The boy in green simply stated. He seemed to have a serious air about him.

"Next." He pointed at the next team from them.

"CRDL." The taller boy amongst all the students stated in what Joshua depicted to be a hostile tone, his arms folded. "Cardin."

'_He should be careful with that tone; God knows where it will get him.'_ Joshua mused

"Russel." He sported an unusual hairstyle, but seemed within an acceptable confidence range.

"Dove." He seemed normal enough.

"Sky. Lark." None of them seemed over or under confident. Good.

"Next." Joshua Graham pointed at the final team.

"Team INTT*****." Ivan, the cowboy boy, said as he constantly unholstered his pistol, twirled it around his finger, and holstered it again. Such style would get you nowhere when the need to survive became prominent. "Ivan Kiss." A couple students snickered, presumably at his surname. Yang was one of them and Joshua shot her a glare before Ivan's team continued naming themselves. Knowing her team was not completely confident with trusting the shabby looking man, Joshua Graham has only shot a glare at Yang to see her reaction. He caught no visible reaction, but he was sure there was one. Ulysses may have been able to spot it, but not Graham.

"Neal." The smaller boy gave a bow. Joshua was unsure if it was some sort of common courtesy here, but he had only seen people bow before superiors. That superior was always Caesar.

"Tina." The first twin said.

"Tiara." The second said.

There was no way he would remember that.

"Very well…" He muttered to himself under his breath. One student heard it, the rest were oblivious – they couldn't see his mouth, after all.

"From this day," Joshua Graham started, standing deadly still with a hand on the holstered handle of A Light Shining in Darkness, "I will address you not as students, but as people. There is no point in putting another beneath you if you intend to work in tandem with them.

"For the next week we will be living off the land, surviving in the Tallbreak Forest." Many of the students' attitudes visibly dulled and the excitement in the air died, like someone had taken a gun to a loud bird.

"Whaaat!?" Ruby seemed visibly shattered.

"It is a skill that will be useful should situations turn south. Being stranded without communication is a likely possibility considering your chosen line of work; so you must learn to survive. If I were in complete control of this outing, I would have you stripped of your weapons and armour, but unfortunately I have been told to avoid going to such _'unnecessary'_ lengths."

Joshua produced a flare gun from his belt, "You have all been given flare guns. These are to be used in case of emergency only. Your scrolls will be available, but you will have limited battery life – use it wisely."

He holstered the flare gun, "I will not be on hand to help, only in emergency situations. It will be up to you to_ learn_ how to survive for the next week."

"So… get back in the Bullheads, we're going deeper into the forest."

"Uh… are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Of course. Just remember, it is not the strongest of the species that survive, nor the most intelligent, but the one most responsive to change. So respond to change, Neal." And at that, Joshua booted the boy out of the aircraft, screaming as he plummeted through the canopy. Ivan just shot him a look before he and the rest of his team followed suit, dropping into the forest. As far as Joshua had been informed, the regular initiation process involved them being catapulted off the side of a cliff into a forest. This was quite tame compared to that.

As the rest of the team disembarked and the door slowly closed, Joshua joined the pilot in the cockpit.

"Have the rest of them dropped?" Joshua asked, leaning over the pilot's seat

"Yep." She replied coolly

"Alright, take us to the camp then."

* * *

***INTT is pronounced Initiate. They are secondary characters and have only been introduced to add more student interaction.**


	20. Chapter 20 - Dance With The Devil

**It only took 20 years to write!**

* * *

**Chapter 20: Dance With the Devil**

"I'm sure you really wanna kill everything, but can we maybe do that another time?" She put a hand on her hip and did that thing that girls would do where she kind of pushed her hip to one side slightly. Six hated that.

"Huh?" Six pocketed Chance's Knife, "Oh, right. I guess I could use some rest." He looked at his limp arm.

'_That's broken. Definitely broken.'_

Six retrieved the Survivalist's Rifle and the Mysterious Magnum from the ground with his working arm whilst his other just flopped around whenever he bent down. It was annoying.

"Where are we headed then?" the Courier asked, "We should probably leave before big dude comes back, wherever the hell it went."

"Well," the green-haired girl started, "I know a few people who would like to have a word or two with you… let's just say that you've piqued their interest."

'_Yeah, that happens a lot.' _Six thought. The NCR, Legion, Mr House, all those other big important people whose names Six never really remembered, they all came calling for the legendary Courier the moment the news spread through the shit-riddled wastelands! It was more annoying if anything.

Another ungodly loud screech broke the air once more and Six soon found his legs crumbling under the sheer power of the sound. He had never felt this weak before.

One thing that Six noticed quite clearly was just how hard these Grimm things hit. That Ursa had hit him like a damn cannon; the power of three Yao Guai. Nothing in the Wastes hit that hard (except Deathclaws, they hurt a _lot_) and Six found himself crumbling over the sudden damage that had befell his body – he wasn't even aware of _when_ his arm had been broken.

This whole situation reminded him of when he had rushed head-first into a Deathclaw nest, only this time he was less prepared and certainly _not_ dosed up on Psycho.

The newfound pair quickly scrabbled off into the undergrowth upon the return of Six's new best friend, Six muttering profanities and curses beneath his breath, silently berating himself for almost dying. It was a common event, but this one just seemed pretty stupid.

The girl headed and Six couldn't keep his eyes from constantly drifting slightly downwards, despite his best efforts to keep his head clear and eyes focused on scanning for potential threats. HE was a man, what else could he do?

The female populace that Six had encountered were certainly something on a completely new level compared to the women back west, in the wastes; although most of them did seem to dress quite… whore-ish?

Whore-ish was the right made-up term to describe them.

So _very_ revealing.

Any sane man would have trouble keeping their hands off. Luckily for Six, he wasn't really all that sane. Idiotic decisions often befell him and he apparently liked to get shot at a lot. The occasional dose of psycho would do that to you.

* * *

Soon enough – after nearly twenty minutes of running limply through a forest and Six constantly looking back over his shoulder in mild paranoia – the pair had reached what seemed to be the outskirts of the forest, where the scenery became less 'lots of trees' and more 'lots of dirt with a fine topping of trees'. Nevertheless, they had reached the end of the forest and before them lay…

A huge fucking wall.

"Alright," Six started, "I'm all for having a little help surviving right now, but I am not climbing a fucking wall, especially not with that big bastard flapping around somewhere."

The girl just tilted her head and gave an innocent smile with closed eyes. Six grumbled and his hand subconsciously sat on the handle of the Mysterious Magnum in its holster as she turned and bobbed off down the small hill that led to the base of the thirty foot wall – a rough estimate of size by the Courier.

He almost lost his footing sliding down the small slope – it was surprisingly muddy – and thankfully the girl didn't seem to notice. The last thing he needed was critique and jest from commoners; people with 'normal' lives – basically pre-war. They weren't survivors and he was – it was a clear divide.

"Hey," Six called ahead to green hair, who simply turned her head very slightly to acknowledge him, "Looks like we'll be going at this for a bit, so I gotta know your name!"

She seemed to ponder it for a while, but she eventually replied with, "Name's Emerald."

Wow. Everybody had weird-ass names, didn't they? Oh well, at least he could talk to her properly when he eventually decided to stick her up. She had led him to a city; that was good enough.

They walked for another thirty minutes, Six jabbing himself with a few stimpacks to null the pain. He was beginning to feel the exhaustion creep into his legs; he didn't have the adequate equipment to mend his arm which made the walking even more taxing with a throbbing appendage. He was pretty damn durable and his stamina was certainly impressive compared to other Wastelanders, but this just seemed ridiculously tiring.

The girl, Emerald, soon came to a stop and waited for the Wastelander to catch up, Six lagging behind a few meters. She used her foot to wipe away a thin layer of dried dirt on the floor right at the foot of the wall, revealing a metal hatch, sizeable for maybe two average men to fit down at once. She opened the hatch and the damn thing sounded like a vault door. It seemed to suck in air as the hatch lifted to reveal a ladder.

"Service tunnel." Emerald said blankly, answering Six's unforetold question of '_What's that?'_ Six just shrugged to himself and gestured for her to lead, to which she seemed to adopt an odd-looking face – some sort of strange concoction between annoyance and frustration. He followed her into the service tunnel.

The tunnel was devoid of any light – save that coming from the hatch, though that was soon to diminish as Six pulled the hatch shut above him and lowered himself onto the floor from the ladder – and Six knocked the side of his helmet with his palm in an attempt to get his night vision to work. Surprisingly, it did, but he was quick to yelp in pain as Emerald clicked a flashlight on.

"Ah! Fuck..." The words slipped from his mouth as the artificial light near blinded him through his helmet's night vision capacities. He raised a hand naturally to block the light and quickly shut off the night vision. Emerald seemed to pay his pain no notice and simply strode on.

Pipes ran down the walls every which way like a nest of snakes was slithering down the walls and Six got an unnerving sense of claustrophobia, something he had never experienced before in his entire life. Six assumed the pipes were for transporting gasses or liquids around – he had seen pipes for such purposes back in the Wastes, old pre-war buildings mostly but some newer ones too. Dead lights lay dormant on the walls without power, completely intact and present yet Six still had a feeling that there were no lights in existence at all in the tunnel despite Emerald's torch illuminating things quite nicely, including the excess amount of rubble that was scattered on the ground, chipped concrete from the walls that had no doubt eroded from age.

One question Six asked himself was why the maintenance shaft ran without power and why there seemed to be no signs of any human life being there… well, ever since he set foot in it himself. It certainly didn't look new and from what Six had gathered from his time around Beacon everything seemed relatively new and expensive. Sure it was a maintenance tunnel, but it wasn't an excuse for why it seemed as though it had barely been touched.

The tunnel ended on a subterranean train line, equally as dark and brooding as the tunnel was. Six sighed, to which Emerald replied, "Just another hour, c'mon." To which Six groaned heavily and groggily. He was beginning to feel slightly woozy.

The remainder of the walk was long and arduous and the Courier felt as though he was ready to amputate his legs no more than ten minutes after entering the train line. Thankfully he didn't have the tools or energy to do so (though he wasn't thankful in his mind), so he just ended up recounting old memories in his head.

Like that time he went to that big place with all the robots and that stuff happened and he talked to his brain and killed a bunch of robots and saw some lobotomised dudes and killed them too and then shouted at a few robots and shot at the sky a bit before engaging in sexual relations with a light switch and throwing mugs at a small little robot dude thingy and then got a bunch of cool robot shit and became a cyborg.

Fun times those were.

Oh, oh, and there was also that time where he went to some casino place and there were ghosts and-

"Hey!"

"Wha-?"

"We're here."

"Uh… yeah. Where exactly is 'here' exactly?" The Courier looked out over the expansive cavern he had now found himself in. A train was lined up on one of the tracks and it looked to be in bad shape, battered and dented with many carriages badly damaged or just reduced to piles of metal. Scattered all across the expanse was a cascade of crumbling buildings, seemingly abandoned for decades and crumbling to piles of rubble though many still stood, broken and incomplete. The cavern was huge; it had to be at least a hundred feet tall, if not more.

"Welcome to Mountain Glenn."

"Mountain Glenn?" The Courier feigned surprise, hoping to coax a little information out of the girl, "It was abandoned a while back, right?" It was a guess, and a hazardous one at that.

"That's right." All in all, it was a brilliant guess, "Could you stay here for maybe a day or two? You see, my boss is running… a _little_ late…"

"Ha!" The Courier chuckled, "_A couple days?_ You told me that a few people might want to speak to me, so if there's no one who's going to speak to me then I'll be quite contempt in finding the door." Six smiled beneath his helmet and was about to turn heel before a new voice joined the fray.

"Now there's no need for that." That voice was… sly, seductive in a way, and Six blankly refused to turn his head to face the new female behind him – he just didn't feel like it would be a good idea for some reason, some overwhelming feeling. His hand rested on his sidearm, ready to draw as always.

"Oh?" Christ that voice seemed damn mischievous, "I was expecting you to try and shoot me." The damn woman sounded like she had a constant fucking smile plastered across her face.

"Yeah, that has gotten me places before." He could feel her smile, it was just so apparent. Emerald also seemed quite unnerved and Six stifled a shudder as she ran a finger over his armour, stepping graciously and eventually sliding into his view. Ashen black hair and (almost) glowing amber eyes screamed trouble for Six. She wore an off-the-shoulders crimson red dress with gold designs running down the sleeves. Quite the spectacle.

"You honestly don't know how tempting it is for me to shoot you." He grinned beneath his helmet and relaxed slightly, though his brain still remained alert, "So are you going to tell me why I'm here?"

She smirked and replied, "I'm looking for somebody who can help me with a little… project."

"Elaborate."

"Very well. I need somebody to handle my transport situation…" She cast a gaze over to the decaying train, "and maybe a little more after that… It all depends." That voice was beginning to piss him off.

"Get me a place to stay, some guns, some ammo, a steady supply of materials and food, and a few extra pairs of hands and you got yourself a deal."

At this point, Emerald interjected.

"You don't even want to know _why_ you're doing this?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Meet my requirements plus any further requests and we'll be right as rain. I won't go poking around."

The woman smiled a menacing grin, "You have a deal, then."

* * *

Situations couldn't play out better! A residence, a steady supply of materials of his choosing plus all the time in the world, as well as some extra hands. The next step…

The next step was science. A lot of science, and a lot of robots.

He was probably going to need a few books…


	21. Chapter 21 - In The Pale Moonlight

**Ulysses was always the one who had the upper hand on the Courier, the more experienced person who knew everything about the Courier. Putting Ulysses into situations where he is not the dominant force in the conversation, where somebody else has to carry the conversation and I can't let Ulysses be all philosophical because he is unfamiliar with his surroundings… it's very annoying to do and hard to get right. :(**

**We're also a couple days late, sorry for that (I try to post on Saturdays).**

* * *

**Chapter 21: In The Pale Moonlight**

Vale by night was quite a spectacle – much more impressive than the likes of New Vegas. New Vegas was all flashy lights, money, and blackmail. True, Vale surely had its own fair share of crime and wrongdoings, but it was just so much more civilised than anywhere back in the wastes and it certainly looked the part too. Perhaps it was not as attractive to oneself when compared to New Vegas sitting amongst miles of barren desert, Vegas having a marvellous light show through the night skies, though Vale, to the Wastelander, was a clear cut above it.

How had this place not seen the light of nuclear fires? Where was this place?

They had walked west and miraculously happened upon this lush oasis, free of war and tyranny with only one major driving force against a completely _joined and peaceful_ society. The Great War destroyed the earth, irradiated the seas, Ulysses knew this much, so why was this place completely unharmed by the devastation caused by the nuclear exchange?

Another thing that perplexed Ulysses was the moon, shattered and broken in the sky. Why was it like this? A holographic projection, perhaps? Last he knew the moon was perfectly intact.

There were many questions, but answers were not the first priority for Ulysses. The first priority was history, personal history from the veterans of this place. Ulysses had set off to Vale earlier that day and night had fallen quickly. The first targeted location was a book shop. It may not have the history he needed, but it was a place to start and perhaps the owner would be able to give him the latest hearsay around town.

The store was entitled _'Tukson's Book Trade'_.

"Welcome to Tukson's Book Trade, home to every book under the sun!" There was a slight stutter, almost unnoticeable, when he registered Ulysses' unique appearance.

Tukson had supposedly never seen anybody wearing a duster before (old-fashioned as they were), and if he had he had probably never seen someone who looked just so blatantly messy. The duster was caked in dirt and, unless he was a huntsman, that was not something you would see much on a casual day in Vale or any other city. Most people preferred to look presentable when appearing publicly in Vale, but this guy looked like he had walked through from a sandstorm. He looked like trouble, if his odd appearance and the giant golden-eagle-tipped staff on his back were anything to go by. The duffle bag also wasn't common wear.

"How may I help you?" Tukson gave a friendly smile, of which Ulysses merely acknowledged mentally and gave no friendly response, only answering back with his own question, straight to the point.

"Looking for rarer history books."

Tukson pointed somewhere near the front of the store, "The history section is-"

Ulysses cut him off bluntly, "Rare." He repeated, "Old, ancient history. Not recent."

Tukson faked a smile, a blatant fake, and spoke in a friendly tone, "I'm afraid we have nothing over twenty-nine years back."

Ulysses gave his usual blank stare as he had almost everybody else in his life, "'Every book under the sun'. You're lying."

"Sir, we don't-"

"White Fang." Ulysses lay his palms on the countertop, "Tell me."

Tukson's expression dropped, "You're with them." He scowled.

"No." the bell above the store's door rang, a pair of teens wandered in: boy and a girl. Ulysses paid them a quick and crude glance over his shoulder. Silver hair, green hair.

"Then how did you know?" Tukson's voice lowered and he leaned into Ulysses, threateningly close with his hands at the ready.

"An animal may struggle against another for territory. Humans and Faunus. You have no struggle, can tell from your look, the way you walk, the way you talk – you had connections. Won't leave until I find what I want."

"Listen, just-" Tukson paused and his eyes shifted to the right quickly, then back, "How do I know you aren't here to kill me?"

"Because _they_ are." It was something Ulysses did passively, picking out the smallest movements and changes in tone and inferring a great deal from those small hints. He could see a liar from a mile away.

"…yeah, I figured that out." Tukson scowled again

"Tell me."

"Listen- I- just… I _can't_ just tell you… just… find _Maxx's Armament_ and ask for Judas, he can help you – tell them you're selling to him." He put on an angry tone and raised his voice, demanding, "Now get out of my store, you're bad for business!"

Ulysses gave his regular blank look, "Best not to break the moulding of history." He stood straight and paced placidly out the door, ignoring the other two 'customers'. Just as the door swung closed, he heard Tukson start up again.

"Welcome to Tukson's Book Trade…"

Tukson would most likely be dead within the next hour or so. It was not Ulysses' place to decide if he lived or died; that was a part played by history and best left undisturbed.

* * *

He asked around for _Maxx's Armament_, stopping a couple passing casuals – the third of which was able to point him in the general direction. It turned out that it was on the far end of the town from where he was now.

As Ulysses walked the streets, he couldn't help but feel slightly unsettled by the extreme lack of sophistication that Vale seemed to display. Initially, Ulysses believed that society would be more advanced than the pre-war existences, but it seemed to be the complete opposite.

Almost half the stores on the streets either sold weaponry or clothing; the weaponry being displayed was simple, almost primal, in terms of pre-war technological advancements. Flimsy swords, war hammers, and other bladed and close quarters weapons ate up space in the shops' display windows, the occasional gun being thrown in there.

There were a few stores selling 'dust' which he had read about. If there were stores selling this 'dust' then why had he never seen any throughout his lifetime? It seemed to be in decent abundance and widely used, too. Apparently it was used as a fuel source so there was no logical reason as to why there wouldn't be any eastward.

The airships he had seen floating around were indeed a small step ahead of pre-war technologies, but only a small step.

And the Grimm… this was the first Ulysses had heard of such creatures. The supposedly greatest threat to humanity and Ulysses had heard no word of it throughout his lifetime. And Faunus too, Ulysses had never caught wind of their existence, even if they were exclusive to… wherever this place was.

All of this accumulating together… it was impossible that this place could have existed in pre-war times and it would have been highly unlikely for a society so well-constructed and peaceful to come about two hundred years after a nuclear war.

There had to be an explanation.

It was not Earth, or at least it wasn't the Earth that Ulysses had learned of, that much was obviously apparent.

Answers were needed, and they were not forthcoming. Perhaps if he learned the truth he could tell the Courier and the Malpais Legate. Perhaps.

* * *

_Maxx's Armaments _was not a store as Ulysses had expected, but more of a supply depot, military in style. It was in a less urban area, basically detached from the city itself and cut off into its own small sanctuary just off to the side of the modern populace and loomed over by the great Valian wall which separated the city from the Grimm horror that lurked beyond the safety of the city.

Large semi-circular metal tubes were lined in sequence, each with a light green tint of paint coating the old rusted metals, and covering a vast expanse of dirt and patched grass, fading with age and dead through the sheer dryness present in the air. The temperature seemed to pick up the closer Ulysses stalked to the depot, but only by a near unnoticeable few degrees – it was unusually cold considering that it was night.

An aging metal chain-link fence surrounded the large compound, topped with shambled barbed wire that made the crude defence look as though it had seen no maintenance or replacement in at least ten years. In a few places the link was broken and it seemed as if the weather had given way to small dog-sized holes in the fence.

The dirt road Ulysses ambled down was greeted by two great wooden struts, a crudely-made wooden sign sitting atop said struts, reading: _Maxx's Armaments_ in poorly wooden blocks. There was no gate, but simply a rough parting in the fence between the struts in such a way that it looked like the fence had been cut to form a makeshift opening to the compound, though the details were hard to spot with the darkness encroaching further.

The poor maintenance of the outside area made Ulysses somewhat suspicious, questioning the reasoning for being so unmaintained. The small concrete building sitting just beyond the dull sign had seen better days – corners chipped and moss dangling from the roof and spreading infectiously across the walls. A set of stairs with a rusted and snapped metal railing led to the solemn metal door to the building and Ulysses strode in seemingly nonchalantly as he always would.

He adjusted the duffle bag on his back slightly.

Inside, the building was lacking in all decorative purpose or thought, just simple concrete walls and metal folding chairs lined against those walls. One wall had a button, glowing a faint red, and with a sign written in pencil above it: _Push for service._ Adjacent to the button was a small counter with a metal mesh protective screen and small deposit slots like those Ulysses had seen in pre-war banks.

Seeing nothing else of interest, Ulysses, albeit slowly and cautiously, pushed the button as he drew an aged 12.7mm SMG from his lower back, concealed by his duster.

The button made a soft buzz and something clicked open somewhere distant, the all-too-familiar sound of doors unlocking further in the building. From the outside, the building looked to be just the singular room he was standing in as of the moment, so the only explanation was some sort of subterranean compound of sorts.

What sounded like a heavy metal hatch flew open behind the small counter opposite him and a small, scraggly man hopped up and thumped his arms down onto the cold metal counter, resounding a somewhat cheerful "Can I help you?" to the customer.

"Selling." Ulysses replied and the man shook his head.

"We don't buy, I'm afraid." He smiled some pain aching grin.

Ulysses unslung the duffle bag from his shoulder and replied, "Selling to Judas."

The man's smile instantly dropped, "Who are _you?_"

"I'm a traveller, friend of Judas." Ulysses replied

"Then how come I ain't ever seen you 'round 'ere before?" The man sneered as he let a hand slip from the metal counter, presumably to press a button. With no more words, Ulysses unzipped the duffle bag and pulled a plasma pistol from it, slipping it through one of the small deposit slots. He had managed to take a few smaller weapons from Six's duffle bag before the Courier had made his abrupt exit.

The man slowly raised a hand to pick up the plasma pistol, his eyes focused solely on Ulysses, suspicion in his pupils. The scraggly man had never seen anything like it before, but it was definitely a weapon of some sort.

"I guess the boss might be able to see ya then."


	22. Chapter 22 - Peace of Mind

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**Red Guardsman:** Thanks for your review; it helps to get some feedback on what I'm hopefully doing right.

* * *

**Chapter 22: Peace of Mind**

Whoever these people were, wherever they were in relation to the Wastes, they didn't deserve the same fate that had befallen the Mojave and the rest of the Earth.

These people were peaceful, just trying to survive against one driving force as it pushed them back to the edges of their will. They played a game of survival, against the Grimm creatures, and it was a game like no other.

The swarms of the Legion may be overcome with time and tactic, but the Grimm were relentless, ruthless in their path of slaughter to end humanity; to wipe its existence from the face of the planet. Though distinctly, the Legion and the Grimm held very obvious differences, but one could compare the slave drivers to the manifestation of darkness.

Graham had wondered how the Mojave's factions and tribes would fare in this place, in Remnant. Perhaps they would simply be engulfed by the Grimm, or perhaps the strongest amongst them would ensure fortification from their enemies. Either way, Joshua Graham doubted highly that the Mojave's combatants would ever side, even in the face of an overwhelming threat such as the Grimm looming over them. Somehow, they would trivialise the Grimm as they had the mutated beasts of the Wastes; find a way to throw them aside, keep them at bay, and would ultimately create new wars between their fellow human brethren. Though maybe some didn't consider their enemies humane in many ways; the NCR certainly had such views on the Legion – many did.

As a man of God and a man of peace, Joshua Graham believed that war was not the way to go. He understood the concept of survival, yes; he had seen the lengths a man may go to save himself from others, but that didn't necessarily make it right – nor was it necessary at all.

He had grown in New Canaan, in the eyes of God, and God's eye taught him to love.

But God's eye also taught him to kill.

As was a righteous chore in the Lord's eye.

* * *

Merely grazing the level of expertise that these hunters and huntresses possessed was a feat that looked to be physically impossible for Graham, for they seemed to have the unique ability to defy the laws of physical reality. Perhaps it was an unnamed merit of having this 'aura' these people seemed to uniquely possess, perhaps it was something else; either way, Joshua Graham simply could not hope to attain such a level of physical enhancement.

The pilot of his Bullhead, Spring was her name, was apparently also a huntress. It was a quite convenient as Joshua may have had some trouble surviving on his own. To think that he did not have the foresight to request a highly-trained individual accompany him was unusual.

Spring danced about acrobatically with a creative cohesion of rope darts and some form of chain whip. She had tasked herself with clearing the area around the campsite whilst Graham scoured the old abandoned campsite for supplies and to determine the safest structure.

The campsite was an old one, set up by huntsmen and eventually abandoned when it was overrun by Grimm. There was no wall to speak of, just a handful of caravan-esque looking structures that seemed to have been airdropped into the area, given that it was a fairly large clearing and the trees parted for some fifty metres, breaking the canopy quite nicely and showering the grassy opening with a rain of light from the bare sky.

The best candidate for shelter was one of the outermost of the twenty or so dilapidated portable structures. It was the least decayed and actually seemed as though it hadn't been abandoned for the past three years, only in poor enough condition to be considered a year without use. Nevertheless, there was a pile of sleeping bags and basic furnishings lined the small interior. A ways away, he could hear wailing at Grimm; no screams of pain, thankfully.

"So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand." Joshua recited quietly to himself as he stepped out the door and back into the greenery.

After trekking to the other end of the campsite, he watched Spring struggle to put down a final Ursa, taking one rogue hit from the creature before eventually being able to put it down.

"A little help would've been appreciated… asshole." She huffed, displaying moderate exhaustion as she wiped her brow free of sweat.

"Our temporary residence is on the far end; a fairly distinguishable shelter." Joshua simply replied, obviously referring to her exhausted condition. She ought to have been through many Grimm to have been in such a tired state.

As she walked past, he picked her muttering, "Some huntsman you are…"

To which he replied: "I do not enjoy killing, perhaps if you had been in a more dire circumstance it would have been considered." She just waved lazily over her shoulder as she dragged herself to the other end of the campsite. Joshua followed amply.

"Y'know," the huntress started as she breathlessly shuffled along the dirt, "There's a lot of commotion going on about you and the other weird-looking dudes back in Vale."

"Oh?" It piqued Graham's attention and he stopped idly fiddling with his personalised sidearm to listen.

"Yeah, yeah, some Atlas specialists showed up yesterday, dunno what they said though."

"They were looking for me? And my companions?"

"Yeah, apparently. There was a ton of chit-chat going around about it. I guess they were impressed by you rags or somethin'. I ain't seein' much." She gave him a quick once-over before traipsing up the metal stairs to their temporary residential space.

"I assume I am to take that as an insult; though the elements of surprise can be a willing advantage in battle." He followed her in through the open doorway, no door to close behind him.

She fell naturally onto the piled sleeping bags, "You don't look like much. Get some fashion sense dude."

"You have no knowledge of my life; you do not know what I have been through. It is best not to judge a book by its cover." He paused with a quick glance about the room, "Where are my supplies?"

"Back in the Bullhead. Go get it yourself."

* * *

Spring was, like most (if not all) of the other females he had seen, dressed in quite revealing clothes. Graham really did question the fashion sense of some people. True, these people had aura, which was more than enough to stop a few bullets, but what would save you after your magical bubble collapsed? Some body armour would be an appreciative thought, even just a few metal plates or some polymer, anything really. There was no foresight with these people.

And their weapons were, to Graham, impractical and unnecessarily complex. The weapons he had seen used seemed to be designs directed towards Grimm slaying efficiency rather than general efficiency. Yes, murder was very much illegal and incredibly sparse in such a built society, but who knows when one may have to kill a fellow man? Graham had brought death upon his fellow man too many times; convinced himself they were righteous killings – which some of them were – but most held sinful in the eyes of God: killing under the command of Caesar.

His sins could not be repented, and he had many scars to mark them.

He felt as though his burns were due punishment for his sins; perhaps not sufficient punishment, but punishment nevertheless.

That same pain he had felt when he had been betrayed by Caesar, set alight for the Legion to watch as he was thrown from the edge of the Grand Canyon – that pain came to him every day when the covers were lifted from his scorched skin, when new sheets had to be put in place. The pain was worth it, all to keep the wounds clean.

He had nowhere to dispose of the old bandages, so they were burnt. The lighter fluid and matches he had commandeered from the school served well for such purpose.

Graham's ears perked to Spring's voice from outside and he calmly gathered and packed the remainder of his medical supplies, slipping one of his four stimpacks into his vest. His shoes clicked against the metal flooring as he made his way outside.

"That's a flare!" With sporadic shouts, the huntress fell into a fit of uncharacteristic panic.

"I see it." Graham fluently loaded his signature sidearm and holstered it, taking off swiftly through the treeline and into the belly of the forest.

Team CRDL were in deep with the Grimm; battling a small horde of Beowolves with the occasional Ursa to offer a stronger challenge amongst the peons of the Grimm. The Grimm's eyes screamed bloody death as they charged the students from all sides, snarling and snapping with claw and jaw alike.

Spring sprang into action like an angry dog and shot a rope dart straight into the eye of the Beowolf nearest Russell Thrush, whom had little time for thanks as another Grimm quickly descended on him. Graham fired a shot at the creature and it staggered, Joshua quickly turning his attention to the other Grimm.

The Burned Man quickly noted the inferiority of his 9mm sidearm and took to wounding the lesser Grimm, popping bullets in as many Beowolf knees as he could. It seemed to halter the creatures significantly, eliminating their speed aspect and reducing them to a feeble crawl.

A quartet of feet rushed against the dirt behind him and Graham barely had the chance to turn before something barged into him, sending him tumbling a couple meters across the ground. He recovered through a roll and slid onto his knees, pistol raised to face his adversary, but the Ursa that had charged him, instead of attacking him, barrelled past, completely disregarding the Burned Man. A torrent of air followed it as its form enveloped Cardin Winchester, the kid flailing like a trapped bird and yelling insane profanities. Without thinking further, Graham emptied a new magazine of bullets into the creature's bare back.

They must've felt like pebbles to the thing, much like they were small rocks to the Yao Guai: it didn't seem to shift it one bit.

Spring was occupied.

Sometimes, collateral damage was necessary.

Graham pulled the pin on a grenade. It rolled to a stop a few inches behind the Grimm.

The boy's aura would protect him.

Ate the very least, it wouldn't let him die.

* * *

Unloading the medical equipment from the grounded Bullhead would have been a pain with just two people, but Cardin's team, after seeing their leader's poor physical state, were on hand to, quite willingly, help out with some of the heavy lifting. As soon as the first bid was set up, Cardin threw himself onto it and was wheeled into the only suitable living quarters present.

As they unloaded the last of the necessary medical equipment, Spring spoke up.

"So, you gonna tell me what that shit was about?"

Joshua said nothing, silently urging the huntress to continue. She didn't exactly understand what his silence meant, mistaking it for evasion.

"Don't _bullshit_ me, I saw what happened earlier, with the Ursa!"

Joshua Graham stopped his actions, recalling his mind back to the multiple books he had drones through on their first few days in the New Land.

"I am cleansed of hatred, devoid of sadness. Truly, I am still a target but, correct me if I am wrong, Grimm are drawn to negativity. When one may achieve peace of mind, they may become apparent to the world that surrounds them and less apparent to the evils of existence. I am fortunate enough to have been guided towards the light, and though I may never be forgiven fully for my sins, I may still account for those I have wronged, and thusly my hatred disperses. His emotions were stronger than mine, and so it was drawn to him first.

"Cardin and his team still have much to learn; all of these students do. I suppose I will be taking CRDL out on another expedition."


	23. Chapter 23 - Science!

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**Gacsam: **I'm making me some damn lemonade! It is taking a while, unfortunately.

* * *

**Chapter 23: Science!**

"ID please." The security officer droned through the casual routine without bothering to look up from his less-than-entertaining magazine; the only significance of the stapled sheets being to prevent a suicide from pure boredom. It was only when he finally laid eyes upon the ID card placed in his hand that he scrounged for a more serious attitude, dropping his magazine lifelessly to the floor in his scurry to fall into the form of a strong-postured salute.

"Sir!" A pair of steel-sole boots tapped the floor impatiently as the man watched the entertaining flailing of the guard inside the booth. He chuckled.

"God, are we really that big of a deal?" He laughed again, "At ease bro."

The guard managed to settle his heart and find his seat again, "Head on through to terminal twelve, sir." The higher-up nodded his thanks and did as directed.

"General, sir." He gave a smooth salute, noticeably more refined than the guard he had previously bumped into.

"Specialist Vogue," Ironwood returned the Specialist's militaristic gesture with a simple courteous nod, "at ease." The General swivelled his chair idly, a somewhat childish show of boredom for a man of such high stature.

"I trust that your transportation was… amicable?"

"More so than most of my life, sir." The Specialist smiled.

Vogue set his briefcase down loudly, throwing up some dust from the desk separating him and the General. Patting his down knee-long pristine white coat with gloved hands of a similar shade, Vogue slowly seated himself in the chair beside him, finding a comfortable position for his body in the curvature of the seat. He adjusted the targeting visor over his eyes to fit more comfortably.

"Rich Atlesian leather…" the Specialist mused to himself before addressing his superior, "Are we still waiting for Specialist Schnee, sir?"

As though aware of his words, the doors behind him slid open with their usual grace.

'_Speak of the Devil'_ Vogue smiled inwardly, "Look who's late!" He practically sung his teasing sentence out. Winter Schnee graced the room with her ever-bitchy presence; Vogue could almost _feel_ her ice-cold hatred boring holes through the back of his head.

She gave her usual formal greeting to Ironwood, and he to her, all whilst ignoring her 'equal' seated at the desk. Winter silently took a seat next to Vogue.

"So who'd you beat up this time? Was it Qrow? I know you two kind of have a thing going between you-"

"I have no relation to that _drunken hypocrite!_" That always broke her.

"Ah here we go with the old lady nag-nag-nagging about her problems." Schnee was fuming. She must have really hated Qrow, "I like to solve my problems with good ol' Abel!" Vogue caressed his briefcase, with a smile painted on his face.

"That's enough, Vogue." The smile fell from the Specialist's face as the General intervened. Vogue adjusted his seated position to look more formal, all whilst offering an unhidden glare to Winter.

"You both know exactly why you've been called here, and you both agreed."

"Actually, I only listened to half of the message. You know how it's meant to explode _after_ the message ends? Well yeah mine didn't do that." Unseen hatred found a bond between Ironwood and Vogue.

"Hey come on," Vogue continued, shrugging his shoulders, "you can't really blame _me_ for that. I promise you that I had nothing to do with it blowing up."

"Vogue…"

"General."

"Please _try_ to be professional for _at least_ this assignment."

"Of course sir." Vogue gave a slight nod. Ironwood sighed.

"As you know our undercover operatives in Vale have been keeping tabs on a few 'foreigners' that were reported to be using odd technology. It seems they're proving… somewhat hard to contact, which is why you two are here. Put simply, I need you to make contact with these three foreigners and _acquire_ some technology from them. If possible, I would also like you to _invite _them to have a little chat with Atlesian authorities. This would be a much simpler task and I would not require assistance from my specialists… if I still had contact with my operatives."

"Sir?" Winter raised an eyebrow in question.

Ironwood sighed, "I lost contact with all three of my operatives in the last week. They have been designated AWOL for the time being, but I fear worse…"

Vogue's heart skipped a beat and began to ache.

"As time is of the essence, I will skip unnecessary detail." Ironwood cast a stern look of authority upon his Specialists.

Winter saluted, "You can count on us sir."

'_I have to work with Winter Schnee…'_

Ironwood dismissed both Specialists, handing them files with as much information on the foreigners as they had and insisting that they begin their assignment whenever they see fit or are prepared. What that actually meant was that they should start immediately, or risk some good old-fashioned military discipline.

The elevator ride down to the ground floor of Atlas' military headquarters was not filled with pleasant conversation.

"Alright Schnee, you can obviously tell that I am positively _thrilled_ about working with you, so let's get something _crystal clear…_" Neither Specialist visually addressed the other, instead opting to cast blank stares at the elevator door, "_You _are not superior to _me,_ neither am _I_ superior to _you,_ so we will be working on the ground of equals, since apparently you don't understand that concept." Winter's eyes idly drifted to her 'partner', though her head remained static, "I hate your _guts_, I hate your _money_, I hate your _family_, I hate your _inefficiency_, and I sure as hell don't like _you_… We will be operating with _efficiency_, not your unideal militaristic methods. Are we at an understanding, _Miss Schnee?_"

Winter was less than amused, but eventually spoke up, "We start searching at Beacon."

Specialist Vogue snarled.

* * *

"Hey look, I'm _really_ sorry for tying you up with barbed wire, but it's all I had, okay?" The Atlesian, chest heaving in and out with short pained breaths, body trembling in constant pain, glared at the man in front of him. Covered head to toe in metal plates and a cowboy duster, an unfamiliar helmet covering his face.

"Alright, I know we've been through this almost ten times already, but I kind of need to know who sent you so I can put a bullet in their head." The Courier had momentary flashbacks, _'Benny… bitch'._

The Atlesian remained silent, quivering on the cold rock beneath him. His face told experienced tales of pain, his monotone expression refusing to give in. His hand quivered, hovering over his now-vacant holster, a silent fear and horror creeping over his body. Barbs dug into his skin, rooting themselves in his flesh and drawing small rivers of blood down his hands, rolling over his stained jacket.

"It's not every day you find someone crawling about spying on you without any identification."

Still nothing. The man's hair remained messy, covered in the blood of his enemy. Unfortunately for the spy, one bullet proved a mere hurdle for his assigned subject.

"Ooh! Ooh! I know what you're here for!" The Courier quickly scrambled to his feet, hopping over to the corner of the small makeshift metal shack he had thrown together. In the corner, he stood next to something draped in an old tattered sheet. As though revealing a prize on a quiz show, the Courier whipped the sheet away, revealing what looked to be some sort of humanoid metal endoskeleton.

"Tadaa! This…" he gestured dramatically to the metal figure, "is a robot! Okay, it's not a finished robot, nowhere near finished actually. I think it'll probably take a few more years to create a synthetic human, so I ditched that idea. I'm just gonna make this one kill shit, maybe give him some cool armour or some shit." Dim light shimmered across the unpolished skeletal-like metal frame; the robotic look on its inhuman face almost reminiscent of a hidden pain. It looked like the flesh had been torn from some poor man and the bones of his very form transmuted into old metals.

The Courier stat down with his prisoner again, "You know, these White Fang goonies are so damn gullible! They just gave me a bunch of books about robotics, hell they even stole some military-grade manuals for me to learn from! And all I'm meant to be doing is modifying this train!" he pointed at an old train a few meters away. "You people are just… so fucking blind!" The train groaned out a rickety creak as it strained to stay intact.

"I have to admit though, the Atlas folks do have some fancy-looking robots. Maybe I'll go nab one for myself… It's a shame that I'll have to kill you though… they only give me enough rations for one person, so if you could haunt the next person who spies on me and tell them not to shoot me in the leg, it would me much appreciated."

The Courier leaned in, "Dust bullets are a real pain to pull out." He thumbed back the hammer of the Mysterious Magnum and pulled the trigger. The bang reverberated through the innards of the cave system.

"Time to science the shit out of these robots!"

* * *

Science-ing the shit out of robots was a long and arduous process.

Six had heard the odd word or two about synthetic humans out on the East coast, but a few words would not equate to personal experience or witnessing such a development first hand. In the end though, the Institute 'Synths' were just robots made to look and act like humans, something the Courier wasn't exactly aiming for. Sure perhaps they would be good at infiltration or data accumulation or something of the sorts but such purposes were trivial in the eyes of the Courier when compared to the little progress he would be making.

Returning to the Mojave to acquire some nifty AI for his bots was out of the question; he had already tried and failed to return. Apparently the Brotherhood had dug up some old U.S army robot that was originally intended to liberate Alaska from the Commies, but it wasn't used for some reason, Six didn't know much. All Six knew was that having a huge Commie smashing robot would've been a great asset, or at least would have provided a solid learning experience, maybe even usable combat subroutines. Starting from scratch would be painful, but time would prevail.

All the Courier had to do was dig around in his brain for everything he had learned from the Big MT Think Tank, but time would prevail in the end. Perhaps making simpler combat subroutines, disregarding target prioritisation and differentiating between friendly and enemy, would be simpler, if only to serve as temporary guards or drones.

Six recalled digging around in a few military grade Sentry Bots in his spare time; that would prove useful now.

But Six knew that this was no one-man job. Well, it could be but it would take straight years to manufacture even a few combat-ready bots. Allies were required.

'_Hey Courier…'_

"Oh fuck off voice, you're the last thing I need."

'_You know you can't just push me away… I'm here to stay, always have been.'_

"Just shut up."

'_And what good would silencing your thoughts do? You're getting sloppy, Courier. When was the last time you put a bullet in someone's brain? Had to have been almost a week.'_

"Ain't been no one to kill."

'_Must have felt good to kill that poor soul over there. He was just watching, you know? Had no reason to kill him, but you did it anyway.'_

"I would rather think clearly without you in my way."

'_Heh… if you say so. By the way, there's a noise over that-a-way.'_

Six's ears perked. His thoughts had not betrayed him, what sounded like scratching was echoing from somewhere about the cave, loudly too, surprisingly loudly. Six drew the Mysterious Magnum and thumbed back the hammer, slowly stalking away from his shack. A small generator hummed as the shack's single aged lightbulb swung slowly back and forth. The ground gently rocked.

Six's eyes stayed transfixed solely on the direction his ears guided him to. The closer he crept forward, the more opaque the scratching noises became. A thought grew in Six's mind… his feet ground to a slow stop as his body became inanimate.

The sound was growing ever nearer. Slowly, steadily, the scratching grew louder and louder until it overshadowed the generator's gentle hum. Then it stopped. Six looked at the floor. It was coming from the rocks. The Courier took two cautious steps backwards before slowly guiding the barrel of his revolver towards where the sound had stopped. The barrel glinted with the rugged light behind him. The revolver's carvings shone brighter than the darkness.

He pulled the trigger.

He pulled again.

Still the scratching ceased to return.

The bullets hadn't pierced the rock as Six slowly came to the realisation that .44 caliber rounds weren't designed to hollow out caves.

'_Maybe your imagination, crazy boy.'_ Six jumped at the sound of his own thoughts returning. Six sighed, shook his head, and holstered his revolver with a click. Something jabbed at his lungs from inside. He rubbed his chest.

'_Just your imagination, Courier.'_

Six coughed, "Why did you tell me there was a noise then, dumbass?"

'_Because I'm you, dumbass.'_

Six noticed how shitty he smelt.

* * *

The Courier eventually came to the realisation that he needed to start manufacturing ammo. He was running low as it is and he wanted to try and chamber some of the dust-based ammo the locals used. But he could start on that another day, his Pip-Boy's internal clock was ticking into later hours and Six needed some beauty sleep if he didn't want to fall asleep halfway through making volatile ammunition.

The Courier slumped down next to the inanimate corpse of the spy he had murdered earlier, a bullet hole glaring through his head. The size of the hole was somewhat disturbing.

"Hold this for me." Six slipped his helmet off and plopped it over the man's head. Much more appealing now, without a giant bullet hole in his face. Well, technically it was still there, just covered up.

Sleep was restless, as always, and Six found himself lying plainly awake some way through the night. Scampering brought the Courier to attention and he drew his revolver. He simply lay there for a moment, listening.

The sound was more of a scuttling, and it grew distant for a few seconds before dying out completely. What sounded like some tiring breaths was also heard, though it sounded reminiscent of a dog, just much louder. Six's eyes casually drifted up. The lightbulb was swinging again.

His boot ground against the rock as the Courier slowly stood to his feet. He retrieved his helmet and flicked on the night vision. Revolver at the ready, the Courier took a heavy step forward. He followed the long-gone scurrying back to where the scratching once emanated.

There was a hole.

Broken rocks and ground stone lay about the opening in the floor, and upon further inspection it appeared not to simply be a hole, but a tunnel. A fucking tunnel. What the tunnelled its way here?

Six shook his head, dismissing it. He eventually covered it with a few old metal panels and decided he would fill the tunnel when the White Fang made their scheduled arrival the next day. Hopefully they would bring enough resources to start ammo manufacturing, robot manufacturing, and to fill that random tunnel.

Whatever had made that tunnel surely wouldn't be able to move those metal panels. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind.


	24. Chapter 24 - Don't Feed the Radroaches

**Chapter 24: Don't Feed the Radroaches**

Judas was one to tango with the big boys in the crime 'industry', so when some shifty looking dude in a duster just waltzed into his hideout's disguised entry building he was a little more than suspicious. The strange attire set off all kinds of alarms in the criminal's head; never before had some traveller simply walked into one of his hideouts.

The undercover cops were always dressed immaculately, never one of them thinking to rough themselves up a bit just to look the part. It was always crackheads and meth addicts who found themselves doing business with Judas; sometimes one or two of the big dogs if they were looking for some _prime_ weaponry. He had been forced to relocate all too many times when some twat tipped off the cops for a measly sum of money that would barely last them one night.

A cop walked in, a cop showed up dead on TV the next day.

A druggy walked in, Judas walked out with a comfortable hand of lien.

A _criminal_ walked in, Judas walked out with a light sack of lien.

An _unfriendly_ _criminal_ walked in, and unfriendly criminal showed up dead on TV the next day.

Judas was no joke, and _everybody_ in the criminal underworld knew that.

So who was this dreadlock cowboy? If he was a criminal, he was a stupid one (or a stupid _rich_ one). If he was a commoner, why had he found himself at the edge of the wall and away from the populace? If he was a cop… well, he would die.

Judas' brown eyes shone with question as he watched a scraggly henchman guide the man down through the metal hatch, into his bunker. His ears twitched as the man's boots reverberated against cold steel. An air of nerve fell upon Judas' own personal little underground black market operation.

He listened to the man walk for minutes on end, a violent click-clacking of weary rubber against young steel. It hurt his head.

One of the guards hanging by the door picked his nose with a sloppy laziness. He caught Judas' gaze; he replied with a snarl.

Judas silenced the urge to cap him then and there.

The visitor's footsteps continued to pulsate beyond the door before him.

His eyes followed the door as it groaned open.

The dreadlock cowboy prowled forth.

The scraggly henchman had disappeared.

Judas smiled.

Slowly, his hand rose from below his polished table, gesturing gently for the man to be seated in the facing chair.

Ulysses sat, slowly with the grace of a snake.

The man, no, the _thing_ before him carried a reeking aura of pure psychopathic delight. He wore his crooked smile like Ulysses would his tattered flag, with pride and retribution clouding his mind; with a physical form of human appearance, the thing stared straight through him.

"Who are you?" Ulysses' voice echoed as it would throughout an empty chamber; the henchmen slowly shuffled out the door.

"I see the look in your eyes… A look of nothingness." His crooked smile twisted into a crooked frown, "You unnerve me… but they call me Judas." His words slipped like water from his mouth, but with a pained sound. His words were an aching whisper.

Judas' faded shirt and tattered jeans had seen more gracious times and his torn shirt revealed a jagged body layered with boils and burns. He looked as though he had been kidnapped by Fiends and left to cook in an oven for half an hour. Barbed wire dug into the flesh covering his skull, wrapped around the large man's head like a coil of wire. Blood leaked from the open seams on his head, though his strangely gentle voice harboured no pain.

Ulysses had never before seen one so null to his own agony.

"What goods do you bring to me this day, foreigner?" It was little surprise to Ulysses to be called a foreigner; he donned the look of an outcast after all. The Wastelander watchfully slid a plasma pistol over the smoothed surface of the table.

Judas' eyes lit up with an ancient longing, "Many years have passed since I have seen one of these…"

Ulysses pondered the words. Another Wastelander? Such was a possibility, the walk west was a simple, if not arduous one, but it was certainly not limited to just three people. If they had made the journey, heard the rumours, then there were obviously others who could have made the same decision and walked the same path.

His torn hands traced the worn edges of the sidearm. Plasma pulsed through his veins; a leisurely smile grew softly across his lips, bringing a nervous joy to his ragged face. His tongue danced a scared waltz over his lips, his hands shook with ferocious pleasure.

"You have no idea how _beautiful_ I feel…" A small dribble of saliva slipped down his chin, brown eyes lit like beacons of joy as his hands continued caressing the aged weapon.

"Now we talk trade." Ulysses' voice remained as cold and emotionless as the steel beneath his feet.

His eyes seemed to blur as he promptly slid the plasma pistol to the edge of the table, keeping an attentive eye on the gun as he did so. His hands had seen experience, and yet they twitched with uncontrollable pleasure. Regardless of his hands' sporadic jerking, he managed to interlock his fingers and don a reasonably calm and fixed posture, leaning coolly back in his chair.

"I would gladly talk trade." The words hissed in agony from his mouth, "My attention is wrought."

"Looking for history." He had repeated those words too many times, in too short a time span.

"History… I carry that currency in plentiful abundance, friend."

Ulysses' past voice echoed deep in his mind.

"So, what history do you seek?"

"I seek knowledge of the past, ancient times, before… this."

Judas' grin grew tenfold, enveloping his punctured face, stretching his hardened skin and drawing yet more crimson rivers. The blood slid from his face, falling and patting the ground, creating its own metronome.

"I hope you have more _fun_ piled in that bag…" The pain in Judas' voice manifested itself into agonising insanity. Whatever brain this man had… the blood loss certainly wasn't helping his sanity.

Ulysses unzipped the duffle bag. The zipper made an uncomfortable noise amongst the metal casing of the bunker. He stacked five energy cells on the table. Judas appeared pleased.

"I'll skip the common knowledge, and anything you'd find in a book…" His smile was unmoving, unnerving.

"Grew curious, found no mention of our home in the books, wondered why. You have answers. Or can lead me to them." Throughout his research into the new land, Ulysses had found no mention of anything beyond the common landmasses (which he found in maps) and the four major kingdoms. No mention of the Old World.

"Yes, I have answers… Will I give them to you? Perhaps at some later date. Don't want to go giving away such precious information to strangers now, do we?" he tapped the wire tangled around his head. It rattled.

"But perhaps I can offer one or two satisfactory answers, since I am seeing a certain _invaluable_ currency before me." His eyes flickered over to the plasma pistol and then quickly back to Ulysses. The Wastelander placed a few more energy cells on the table. Judas' smile was unbreakable.

"I'll be honest with you… I have no idea how you got here. I have an idea how _I_ got here, but not you. If you came the same way I did, I would be able to tell." Ulysses glanced down to the boils covering the man's chest. They bubbled as though they were alive.

A momentary period of silence followed, filled only by the groaning metal structure of the bunker, dirt pressing down on its walls.

"Mayhaps we could come to agree on a mutually beneficial arrangement, fellow Wastelander? The way I see it, your _technology_," he drooled over the word, "could prove useful to me, and in return I give you the answers you're looking for."

Ulysses was never one to work in tandem with another, regardless of the situation. Of course he had cooperated with others before, but overall it was an idea the man was not overly fond with. Much history had taught that there were mistakes to be had when putting one's trust in another; working alone meant that he would only have to suffer from his own mistakes, and not the mistakes of others. Besides, he did not need others. The Courier had once shown him how a single individual could change history, or erase it.

But Judas was trouble.

A deal with the Devil was a deal best never made.

Ulysses gathered the energy cells and reclaimed the plasma pistol, shoving them all into the duffle bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

'_He'll be back'_

* * *

Judas simply sat in motionless thought for the next few moments, his fingers occasionally drumming against the metal table, resonating a slight echo as the criminal pondered his position.

The key to success had just walked through his front door, and walked straight back out.

Ulysses, known not amongst the Wastes; a rather subdued and quiet figure, Judas had only heard his name once and even that was a vague mention. As far as he could recall, Ulysses was mentioned alongside a tribe of some sort. Whatever tribe that was, the man certainly didn't look the part.

He scratched a patch of dried blood on his face. The wire tugged at his skin, drawing more red from his veins. The door opened; a guard waltzed in.

"Is Taurus still here?" Judas' fingers continued drumming monotonously against the table. The guard shook his head in reply and Judas simply sighed in acknowledgement.

"Get Ciar here please." The guard simply returned Judas' request with a blank stare. Judas groaned.

"Just use some assets to find him, I'll never use them for anything better anyway."

* * *

"Ciar Yahto…" General James Ironwood held his face in his hands, attempting to control his discontent before it spiralled into anger, "Please remind me exactly _why_ you have decided to prolong _my_ mission even further."

Ciar slammed his fists down onto Ironwood's desk and the General could have sworn he heard a crack from the man's hand.

"I _refuse_ to have you send _my _men on a bus with a one way ticket to hell without _my _approval, General! Just because I have been _forced _to submit to your authority, does not mean that I will blindly throw the lives of _my soldiers_ into your filthy corporate hands!" A fixed snarl plastered Ciar's face

"Mister Yahto, your operative has been filed as MIA, not dead-"

"For all I know that fucker could have castrated my man and shoved his balls down his own throat!"

"Mister Yahto please calm down-"

"I'll calm the fuck down when you find my fucking guy Ironwood!"

"I can assure you that we-"

"You can't assure shit, you lousy Atlas pricks! You're all in the pocket of that fucking Schnee cunt!"

"Mister Yahto, need I remind you who has authority in this situation? You're a mercenary, I'm a military leader."

"I don't give a shit about your 'political authority' bullshit! You'll be ten years dead by the time they catch me!"

"Mister Yahto-" A rough crackling interrupted the General's retort. Ciar reached for the radio on his belt as a voice crackled through.

"_Sir, we got some White Fang insurgents in Warehouse B-6, commencing with Failsafe Mojave, repeat, Failsafe Mojave."_

Ciar replied, "Affirmative soldier, hold strong."

Ironwood let out a jeering snicker as Ciar re-attached the radio to his belt, "You should use a better fake name than 'Mojave'"

Ciar's sneer solidified once more, "Yeah? Well fucking knights don't exist anymore, so maybe you should rename your stupid fucking 'Atlesian Knights' you twat."

* * *

"Judas…" despite audibly groaning, Ciar's disappointment seemed to portray itself on his face as well, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Judas gave a painful smile, but a genuine one, as he replied with a mock bow, "I think you have a vague idea, Commander."

Ciar's face was blank, "You're not to call me that anymore, Judas. We are on Remnant, my name is Ciar Yahto and your name is Judas Altan, and need I remind you how illegal you are? That being said, I have no idea why you have chosen some washed out back-alley to hold what is obviously an important conversation… and in a criminal hotspot at night, no less."

"Well," Judas shrugged lazily, "You got the area on lockdown, right?" He tugged idly at the barbed wire digging into his face.

"You crazy masochist bastard…" Ciar muttered beneath his breath.

"Hmm? What was that?" Judas raised an eyebrow, once again the wire tugged at his flesh.

Ciar growled, "Yes, I have the area on lockdown and my most trusted men are the only ones within audible vicinity of this conversation, now hurry up and start talking on subject."

Judas hummed with glee, producing a folded sheet of paper from some hidden pocket in his tattered outfit and handing it over to Ciar who impatiently snatched the sheet from his hand. As he unfolded the paper, Ciar's eyes widened.

"Where did you get this?" His mind raced as he stared at the image of a genuine plasma pistol, held in Judas' very own hands.

Judas simply smiled before Ciar proposed another question, "Why is this just a picture? Do you not have it with you?"

Judas continued grinning, "Well, I don't exactly _own_ it just yet, but I will soon. That snap is from the CCTV in my place."

"…So this is it?" Ciar folded the piece of paper before producing a lighter.

"Indeed it is!"

The tattered paper melted away, engulfed by flame, "We can finally continue to the next phase… Can I trust you to procure the adequate technology?"

"Oh don't worry; I'll be able to get my hands on some _juicy_ stuff soon enough. Hey, maybe you can melt that old idiot Ironwood's brain away one day!" Judas imitated somebody's head exploding rather than melting.

"And I'll do my best to divert attention from you." Ciar smiled. Finally, after so many years of waiting, so many years of plotting and planning… finally, they were ready to take action.

* * *

Something stirred in Ulysses' stomach.

He dumped the mercenary uniform behind a pile of trash bags and tossed the rifle away, not caring for where it landed or how much noise it made.

There were more Wastelanders here, and those were two of them. From the look of him, Ulysses had made the safe assumption that Judas was a Wastelander, but the other one… he just looked like a regular mercenary. Furthermore, this 'Ciar' was tied to Judas somehow, and very closely at that judging by how Judas made a point to refer to him as 'Commander'. From where Ulysses had been observing, there was no tell-tale signs that pointed to Ciar being military, and why would somebody like Judas, a high-status criminal, refer to a mercenary as 'Commander'? Things simply didn't add up all too well.

But still, with this information perhaps he could get what he needed out of Judas. Whatever they were talking about sounded important and elaborate, perhaps even threatening to one of the Kingdoms.

The best chance he would have to get what he needed was to bluff it.

Hopefully that would go his way.


End file.
